Slowly, quietly, like snow-flakes—like the small flakes that come when it is going to snow all night —little flakes of me, my impressions, my selections, are settling down on the image of her. The real shape wil be quite hidden in the end.

Her face was working and twitching with passion, but his looked up at the sky, still quiet, neither angry nor afraid, but a little sad.

But length of days with an evil heart is only length of misery and already she begins to know it. All get what they want; they do not always like it.

The surest way of spoiling a pleasure [is] to start examining your satisfaction.

There have been men before now who got so interested in proving the existence of God that they came to care nothing for God Himself.

I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare.

You cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.