The very truth hath a colour from the disposition of the utterer.

A mother's yearning feels the presence of the cherished child even in the degraded man.

Poetry and art and knowledge are sacred and pure.

There is a sort of subjection which is the peculiar heritage of largeness and of love; and strength is often only another name for willing bondage to irremediable weakness.

After all, people may really have in them some vocation which is not quite plain to themselves, may they not? They may seem idle and weak because they are growing. We should be very patient with each other, I think.

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

I've never any pity for conceited people, because I think they carry their comfort about with them.