Best friend, my well-spring in the wilderness!

I trust you as holy men trust God; you could do nought that was not pure and loving, though the deed might pierce me unto death.

If you had a table spread for a feast, and was making merry with your friends, you would think it was kind to let me come and sit down and rejoice with you, because you'd think I should to share those good things; but I should better to share in your trouble and your labour.

There are glances of hatred that stab, and raise no cry of murder.

... the true seeing is within; and painting stares at you with an insistent imperfection.

Those who trust us educate us.

Worldly faces never look so worldly as at a funeral. They have the same effect of grating incongruity as the sound of a coarse voice breaking the solemn silence of night.