I liked human beings, but I did not love human nature.

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

the great novels have marched with the years. They are the contemporaries of time.

But there is, I have learned, no permanent escape from the past. It may be an unrecognized law of our nature that we should be drawn back, inevitably, to the place where we have suffered most.

Conscience represents a fetich to which good people sacrifice their own happiness, bad people their neighbors'.

Nobody, not even the old, not even the despairing, wished to come to an end in time or in eternity.

True goodness is an inward grace, not an outward necessity.