When what is good comes of age, and is likely to live, there is reason for rejoicing.

The troublesome ones in a family are usually either the wits or the idiots.

... one's own faults are always a heavy chain to drag through life and one can't help groaning under the weight now and then.

I shall never love anybody. I can't love people. I hate them.' 'The time will come, dear, the time will come.

The first condition of human goodness is something to love; the second, something to reverence.

Nature repairs her ravages,--repairs them with her sunshine and with human labor.

Fancy what a game of chess would be if all the chessmen had passions and intellects, more or less small and cunning; if you were not only uncertain about your adversary's men, but a little uncertain also about your own. You would be especially likely to be beaten, if you depended arrogantly on your mathematical imagination, and regarded your passionate pieces with contempt. Yet this imaginary chess is easy compared with a game a man has to play against his fellow-men with other fellow-men for instruments.