The first sense of mutual love excludes other feelings; it will have the soul all to itself.

Affection is the broadest basis of a good life.

... when one's outward lot is perfect, the sense of inward imperfection is the more pressing.

I shall never love anybody. I can't love people. I hate them.' 'The time will come, dear, the time will come.

[It is easier] to quell emotion than to incur the consequences of venting it.

We reap what we sow, but nature has love over and above that justice, and gives us shadow and blossom and fruit, that spring from no planting of ours.

Every limit is a beginning as well as an ending.