We reap what we sow, but nature has love over and above that justice, and gives us shadow and blossom and fruit, that spring from no planting of ours.

There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.

It is a wonderful subduer-this need of love, this hunger of the heart.

The human soul is hospitable, and will entertain conflicting sentiments and contradictory opinions with much impartiality.

Better a false belief than no belief at all.

... it is because sympathy is but a living again through our own past in a new form, that confession often prompts a response of confession.

I have the conviction that excessive literary production is a social offence.