But this time I'm not to blame; I want you to believe that. I simply slipped into those violets. No, I want to be really truthful. I am a little to blame. The sky, you know, was gold, and the ground all blue, and for a moment he looked like some one in a book.

The strong are so stupid.

There is much good luck in the world, but it is luck. We are none of us safe. We are children, playing or quarrelling on the line.

Naked I came into the world, naked I shall go out of it! And a very good thing too, for it reminds me that I am naked under my shirt, whatever its colour.

There is an aristocracy of the sensitive. They represent the true human tradition of permanent victory over cruelty and chaos.

It was unbearable, and he thought again, 'How unhappy I am!' and became happier.

. . . life is sometimes life and sometimes only a drama, and one must learn to distinguish t'other from which . . .