How can one ever do anything nobly Christian, living among people with such petty thoughts?

All meanings, we know, depend on the key of interpretation.

We are all humiliated by the sudden discovery of a fact which has existed very comfortably and perhaps been staring at us in private while we have been making up our world entirely without it.

No evil dooms us hopelessly except the evil we love, and desire to continue in, and make no effort to escape from.

A human being in this aged nation of ours is a very wonderful hole, the slow creation of long interchanging influences; and charm is a result of two such wholes, the one loving and the one loved.

The perpetual mourner -- the grief that can never be healed -- is innocently enough felt to be wearisome by the rest of the world. And my sense of desolation increases. Each day seems a new beginning -- a new acquaintance with grief.

We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder to feed our supreme selves