The men are mostly so slow, their thoughts overrun 'em, an' they can only catch 'em by the tail. I can count a stocking-top while a man's getting's tongue ready; an' when he outs wi' his speech at last, there's little broth to be made on't. It's your dead chicks take the longest hatchin'.

... we all know the wag's definition of a philanthropist: a man whose charity increases directly as the square of the distance.

Beauty is part of the finished language by which goodness speaks.

One of the tortures of jealousy is, that it can never turn away its eyes from the thing that pains it.

The years seem to rush by now, and I think of death as a fast approaching end of a journey-double and treble reason for loving as well as working while it is day.

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.

No great deed is done by falterers who ask for certainty.