But it is the province of religion, of philosophy, of pure poetry only, to go beyond life, beyond time, into eternity.

The acts of the human race on the world's stage have doubtless a coherent unity, but the meaning of the vast tragedy enacted will be visible only to the eye of God, until the end, which will reveal it perhaps to the last man.

Just as we descend into our consciences to judge of actions which our minds can not weigh, can we not also search in ourselves for the feeling which gives birth to forms of thought, always vague and cloudy?

What is a great life? It is the dreams of youth realised in old age.

Hope is the biggest of our foolish things.

I have a private theory, Sir, that there are no heroes and no monsters in this world. Only children should be allowed to use these words

Invisible is real. Souls have their own world.