But the quiet grows and grows. Beautifully and unbearably.

Like every man of sense and good feeling, I abominate work.

On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean.

Seated upon the convex mound Of one vast kidney, Jonah prays And sings his canticles and hymns, Making the hollow vault resound God's goodness and mysterious ways, Till the great fish spouts music as he swims.

Why should human females become sterile in their forties, while female crocodiles continue to lay eggs into their third century?

Happiness has got to be paid for. You're paying for it, Mr. Watson–paying because you happen to be too much interested in beauty. I was too much interested in truth; I paid too.

My fate cannot be mastered; it can only be collaborated with and thereby, to some extent, directed. Nor am I the captain of my soul; I am only its noisiest passenger.