To every man who struggles with his own soul in mystery, a book that is a book flowers once, and seeds, and is gone.

The pyramids of Egypt will not last a moment compared to the daisy.

It is a fine thing to establish one's own religion in one's heart, not to be dependent on tradition and second-hand ideals. Life will seem to you, later, not a lesser, but a greater thing.

[Hawthorne''s] pious blame is a chuckle of praise all the while.

And to my lips' Bright crimson rim The passion slips, And down my slim White body drips The shining hymn.

Nobody can have the soul of me. My mother has had, and nobody can have it again. Nobody can come into my very self again, and breathe me like an atmosphere.

The essential function of art is moral. But a passionate, implicit morality, not didactic. A morality which changes the blood, rather than the mind.