I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.

Good-night, my-" He stopped, bit his lip, and abruptly left me.

The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter - often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter - in the eye.

Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity, or registering wrongs. With this creed, revenge never worries my heart, degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low. I live in calm, looking to the end.

No mockery in this world ever sounds to me so hollow as that of being told to cultivate happiness. What does such advice mean? Happiness is not a potato, to be planted in mould, and tilled with manure.

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.

Human beings never enjoy complete happiness in this world. I was not born for a different destiny to the rest of my species: to imagine such a lot befalling me is a fairy tale -- a daydream." "Which I can and will realise. I shall begin today.