That which one cannot experience in daily life is not true for oneself.

Men always do leave off really thinking, when the last bit of wild animal dies in them.

I believe a man is born first unto himself - for the happy developing of himself, while the world is a nursery, and the pretty things are to be snatched for, and pleasant things tasted; some people seem to exist thus right to the end. But most are born again on entering manhood; then they are born to humanity, to a consciousness of all the laughing, and the never-ceasing murmur of pain and sorrow that comes from the terrible multitudes of brothers.

Never was an age more sentimental, more devoid of real feeling, more exaggerated in false feeling, than our own.

In the dust where we have buried the silent races and their abominations we have buried so much of the delicate magic of life.

Love is the hastening gravitation of spirit towards spirit, and body towards body, in the joy of creation.

What is the knocking? What is the knocking at the door in the night? It is somebody who wants to do us harm. No, no, it is the three strange angels. Admit them, admit them.