There is one order of beauty which seems made to turn heads. It is a beauty like that of kittens, or very small downy ducks making gentle rippling noises with their soft bills, or babies just beginning to toddle.

Great feelings will often take the aspect of error, and great faith the aspect of illusion.

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.

Love has a way of cheating itself consciously, like a child who plays at solitary hide-and-seek; it is pleased with assurances that it all the while disbelieves.

There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.

It is one thing to see your road, another to cut it.

Loquacity with tongue or pen is its own reward -- or, punishment.