The want of logic annoys. Too much logic bores. Life eludes logic, and everything that logic alone constructs remains artificial and forced.

We should enjoy this summer, flower by flower, as if it were to be the last one we’ll see.

True eloquence forgoes eloquence.

It is good to follow one's own bent, so long as it leads upward.

The bad novelist constructs his characters; he directs them and makes them speak. The true novelist listens to them and watches them act; he hears their voices even before he knows them.

Fish die belly upward, and rise to the surface. Its their way of falling.

Those who have never been ill are incapable of real sympathy for a great many misfortunes