Some things are best mended by a break.

It is almost as stupid to let your clothes betray that you know you are ugly as to have them proclaim that you think you are beautiful.

Life's just a perpetual piecing together of broken bits.

There was no use in trying to emancipate a wife who had not the dimmest notion that she was not free.

Something he knew he had missed: the flower of life. But he thought of it now as a thing so unattainable and improbable that to have repined would have been like despairing because one had not drawn the first prize in a lottery.

Make ones center of life inside ones self, not selfishly or excludingly, but with a kind of unassailable serenity.

Ah, the poverty, the miserable poverty, of any love that lies outside of marriage, of any love that is not a living together, a sharing of all!