The scornful nostril and the high head gather not the odors that lie on the track of truth.

For pain must enter into its glorified life of memory before it can turn into compassion.

Sympathetic people often don't communicate well, they back reflected images which hide their own depths.

The desire to conquer is itself a sort of subjection.

even those who call themselves 'intimate' know very little about each other - hardly ever know just how a sorrow is felt, and hurt each other by their very attempts at sympathy or consolation. We can bear no hand on our bruises.

But, bless us, things may be lovable that are not altogether handsome, I hope?

But human experience is usually paradoxical, that means incongruous with the phrases of current talk or even current philosophy.