A man can bear a world's contempt when he has that within which says he's worthy. When he contemns himself, there burns the hell.

To have to die is a distinction of which no man is proud.

The spot of ground on which a man has stood is forever interesting to him.

A man's real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor.

My garden, with its silence and pulses of fragrance that come and go on the airy undulations, affects me like sweet music. Care stops at the gates, and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.

If a man is worth knowing at all, he is worth knowing well.

The man who in this world can keep the whiteness of his soul is not likely to lose it in any other.