Poor is the power of the lead that becomes bullets compared to the power of the hot metal that becomes types.

But I did not find any positive inspiration in my studies until I approached my nineteenth year.

School is a foretaste of life.

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.

I encountered among my comrades the most varied human traits, from frankness to reserve, from goodness, uprightness and kindness, to brutality and baseness.

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.

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