The difficulty about all this dying, is that you can't tell a fellow anything about it, so where does the fun come in?

Physical pain however great ends in itself and falls away like dry husks from the mind, whilst moral discords and nervous horrors sear the soul.

Truly nothing is to be expected except for the unexpected.

What sense of superiority it gives one to escape reading some book which every one else is reading.

What one reads, or rather all that comes to us, is surely only of interest and value in proportion as we find ourselves therein, -- form given to what was vague, what slumbered stirred to life.

The success or failure of a life, as far as posterity goes, seems to lie in the more or less luck of seizing the right moment of escape

I wonder whether if I had an education I should have been more or less a fool that I am.