Those bitter sorrows of childhood!-- when sorrow is all new and strange, when hope has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and the space from summer to summer seems measureless.

Ignorant kindness may have the effect of cruelty; but to be angry with it as if it were direct cruelty would be an ignorant unkindness.

More helpful than all wisdom is one draught of simple human pity that will not forsake us.

The worst service, I fancy, that anyone can do for truth, is to set silly people writing on its behalf.

Under every guilty secret there is hidden a brood of guilty wishes, whose unwholesome infecting life is cherished by the darkness.

Might, could, would - they are contemptible auxiliaries.

There's many a good bit o' work done with a sad heart.