Our words have wings, but fly not where we would.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

It had already occurred to him that books were stuff, and that life was stupid.

Art is the nearest thing to life; it is a mode of amplifying experience and extending our contact with our fellow men beyond the bounds of our personal lot.

We have all got to exert ourselves a little to keep sane, and call things by the same names as other people call them by.

No man can be wise on an empty stomach.

So to live is heaven; to make undying music in the world.