There are various orders of beauty, causing men to make fools of themselves in various styles, from the desperate to the sheepish; but there is one order of beauty which seems made to turn the heads not only of men, but of all intelligent mammals, even of women. 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 and to engage in conscious mischief — a beauty with which you can never be angry, but that you feel ready to crush for inability to comprehend the state of mind into which it throws you.

No story is the same to us after a lapse of time; or rather we who read it are no longer the same interpreters.

What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other?

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

God, immortality, duty - how inconceivable the first, how unbelievable the second, how peremptory and absolute the third.

Hatred is like fire, it makes even light rubbish deadly.

If you are to rule men, you must rule them through their own ideas.