The worst thing about war is that so many people enjoy it.

She must face her grief where the struggle is always hardest-in the place where each trivial object is attended by pleasant memories.

So long as one is able to pose one has still much to learn about suffering.

There is no state of satisfaction, because to himself no man is a success.

The nearer she came to death, the more, by some perversity of nature, did she enjoy living.

One cannot lay a foundation by scattering stones, nor is a reputation for good work to be got by strewing volumes about the world.

There is in every human being, I think, a native country of the mind, where, protected by inaccessible barriers, the sensitive dream life may exist safely.