When we get to wishing a great deal for ourselves, whatever we get soon turns into mere limitation and exclusion.
Breed is stronger than pasture.
In poor Rosamond's mind there was not room enough for luxuries to look small in.
Falsehood is easy, truth so difficult.
... when one's outward lot is perfect, the sense of inward imperfection is the more pressing.
Let my body dwell in poverty, and my hands be as the hands of the toiler; but let my soul be as a temple of remembrance where the treasures of knowledge enter and the inner sanctuary is hope.