People who travel are always fugitives.

This house sheltered us, we spoke, we loved within those walls. That was yesterday. To-day we pass on, we see it no more, and we are different, changed in some infinitesimal way. We can never be quite the same again.

Watch that boy. He's going to startle somebody someday.

Boredom is a pleasing antidote for fear

The point is, life has to be endured, and lived. But how to live it is the problem.

If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.

He stole horses' you'll say to yourself, 'and he didn't care for women; and but for my pride I'd have been with him now.