I protest against any absolute conclusion.
The beginning of compunction is the beginning of a new life.
Men and women make sad mistakes about their own symptoms, taking their vague uneasy longings, sometimes for genius, sometimes for religion, and oftener still for a mighty love.
Ignorance gives one a large range of probabilities.
Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.
If the past is not to bind us, where can duty lie? We should have no law but the inclination of the moment.