They wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other.

It is necessary that every man have at least somewhere to go. For there are times when one absolutely must go at least somewhere!

In a morbid condition of the brain, dreams often have a singular actuality, vividness, and extraordinary semblance of reality. At times monstrous images are created, but the setting and the whole picture are so truth-like and filled with details so delicate, so unexpectedly, but so artistically consistent, that the dreamer, were he an artist like Pushkin or Turgenev even, could never have invented them in the waking state. Such sick dreams always remain long in the memory and make a powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system.

To love another person is to see them as God intended them to be.

For men are made for happiness, and any one who is completely happy has a right to say to himself, 'I am doing God's will on earth.'

The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.

But what can a decent man speak of with most pleasure? Answer: Of himself. Well, so I will talk about myself.