One could laugh at the world better if it didn't mix tender kindliness with its brutality.

Let there be an end ... of all this welter of pity, which is only self-pity reflected onto some obvious surface.

The human consciousness is really homogeneous. There is no complete forgetting, even in death.

The proper study of mankind is man in his relation to his deity.

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.

And in this passion for understanding her soul lay close to his; she had him all to herself. But he must be made abstract first.

The trains roared by like projectiles level on the darkness, fuming and burning, making the valley clang with their passage. They were gone, and the lights of the towns and villages glittered in silence.