My childhood was full of deep sorrows - colic, whooping-cough, dread of ghosts, hell, Satan, and a Deity in the sky who was angry when I ate too much plumcake.

Time, like money, is measured by our needs.

To the receptive soul the river of life pauseth not, nor is diminished.

If Art does not enlarge men's sympathies, it does nothing morally.

Those who trust us educate us.

I think what we call the dullness of things is a disease in ourselves. Else how could anyone find an intense interest in life? And many do.

But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.