Words, like acts, become stale when they are repeated.

The hardest thing for me is the sense of impermanence. All passes; nothing returns.

All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward.

there are times when life surprises one, and anything may happen, even what one had hoped for.

Insolent youth rides, now, in the whirlwind. For those modern iconoclasts who are without culture possess, apparently, all the courage.

What I hated even more than the conflict was the lurid spectacle of a world of unreason.

The only difference between a rut and a grave are the dimensions.