She looked at a silver birch: it would have a soft, showery voice and would look like a slender girl, with hair blown all about her face and fond of dancing. She looked at the oak: he would be a wizened, but hearty, old man with a frizzled beard and warts on his fact and hands, with hair growing out of the warts. She looked at the beech under which she was standing. Ah! --she would be the best of all. She would be a gracious goddess, smooth and stately, the Lady of the Wood.

It is a good rule after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one till you have read an old one in between.

If we cut up beasts simply because they cannot prevent us and because we are backing our own side in the struggle for existence, it is only logical to cut up imbeciles, criminals, enemies, or capitalists for the same reasons.

As long as he doesn't convert it into action, it does not matter how much a man thinks about his repentance.

Thirst was made for water. Inquiry for truth.

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

We must stop regarding unpleasant or unexpected things as interruptions of real life. The truth is that interruptions are real life.