O the anguish of the thought that we can never atone to our dead for the stinted affection we gave them.
I not only want to be loved, I want to be told that I'm loved.
People glorify all sorts of bravery except the bravery they might show on behalf of their nearest neighbors.
Where women love each other, men learn to smother their mutual dislike.
To know intense joy without a strong bodily frame, one must have an enthusiastic soul.
In bed our yesterdays are too oppressive: if a man can only get up, though it be but to whistle or to smoke, he has a present which offers some resistance to the past—sensations which assert themselves against tyrannous memories.