Life is measured by the rapidity of change, the succession of influences that modify the being.

Fine old Christmas, with the snowy hair and ruddy face, had done his duty that year in the noblest fashion, and had set off his rich gifts of warmth and color with all the heightening contrast of frost and snow.

Better a false belief than no belief at all.

What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other?

I beg your pardon: correct English is the slang of prigs who write history and essays. And the strongest slang of all is the slang of poets.

Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love.

Our selfishness is so robust and many-clutching that, well encouraged, it easily devours all sustenance away from our poor little scruples.