You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you.

Neanderthal man listened to stories, if one may judge by the shape of his skull.

I really don't know what happens next -- one so seldom does.

It is so difficult - at least, I find it difficult - to understand people who speak the truth.

The traveller who has gone to Italy to study the tactile values of Giotto, or the corruption of the Papacy, may return remembering nothing but the blue sky and the men and women who live under it.

No one is more triumphant than the man who chooses a worthy subject and masters all its facts.

Some leave our life with tears, others with an insane frigidity; Mrs. Wilcox had taken the middle course, which only rarer natures can pursue. She had kept proportion. She had told a little of her grim secret to her friends, but not too much; she had shut up her heart--almost, but not entirely. It is thus, if there is any rule, that we ought to die--neither as victim nor as fanatic, but as the seafarer who can greet with an equal eye the deep that he is entering, and the shore that he must leave.