A love for humanity came over me, and watered and fertilised the fields of my inner world which had been lying fallow, and this love of humanity vented itself in a vast compassion.

Dostoevsky preaches the morality of the pariah, the morality of the slave.

On the whole, the world was friendly. It chiefly depended on whether one were good or not.

My first experiences of academic friendship made me smile in after years when I looked back on them. But my circle of acquaintances had gradually grown so large that it was only natural new friendships should grow out of it.

I came into the world two months too soon, I was in such a hurry.

Any feeling that I was enriching my mind from those surrounding me was unfortunately rare with me.

The appalling thing about war is that it kills all love of truth.