No man can be wise on an empty stomach.

Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.

The perpetual mourner -- the grief that can never be healed -- is innocently enough felt to be wearisome by the rest of the world. And my sense of desolation increases. Each day seems a new beginning -- a new acquaintance with grief.

Men outlive their love, but they don’t outlive the consequences of their recklessness.

What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined - to strengthen each other - to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.

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.

Miserliness is a capital quality to run in families; it's the safe side for madness to dip on.