Even the contemplative life is only an effort, Nora my dear, to hide the body so the feet won’t stick out.

I have been loved,' she said, 'by something strange, and it has forgotten me.

What is a ruin but time easing itself of endurance?

No man needs curing of his individual sickness; his universal malady is what he should look to.

I couldn't ever boil potatoes over the heat of your affection. Your love would never bridge a gap; it wouldn't even fill up the hole that the mice came through.

Man is the only thing that has no further use after something goes amiss.

Too great a sense of identity makes a man feel he can do no wrong. And too little does the same.