Of a truth, Knowledge is power, but it is a power reined by scruple, having a conscience of what must be and what may be. . . .

The desire to conquer is itself a sort of subjection.

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

I don't feel sure about doing good in any way now; everything seems like going on a mission to a people whose language I don't know.

To have suffered much is like knowing many languages. Thou hast learned to understand all.

That farewell kiss which resembles greeting, that last glance of love which becomes the sharpest pang of sorrow.

It is a wonderful subduer-this need of love, this hunger of the heart.