Do you like him much?' I told you I liked him a little. Where is the use of caring for him so very much: he is full of faults.' Is he?' All boys are.

But this I know; the writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master--something that at times strangely wills and works for itself. He may lay down rules and devise principles, and to rules and principles it will perhaps for years lie in subjection; and then, haply without any warning of revolt, there comes a time when it will no longer consent.

Oh! that gentleness! how far more potent is it than force!

On the contrary, I'm a universal patriot, if you could understand me rightly: my country is the world.

Feeling without judgement is a washy draught indeed; but judgement untempered by feeling is too bitter and husky a morsel for human deglutition.

His mind was indeed my library, and whenever it was opened to me, I entered bliss.

But afterwards, is there nothing more for me in life - no true home - nothing to be dearer to me than myself?