There's times when the crockery seems alive, an' flies out o' your hand like a bird. It's like the glass, sometimes, 'ull crack as it stands. What is to be broke will be broke.

Subtract from the New Testament the miraculous and highly impossible, and what will be the remainder?

Eros has degenerated; he began by introducing order and harmony, and now he brings back chaos.

Our passions do not live apart in locked chambers but dress in their small wardrobe of notions, bring their provisions to a common table and mess together, feeding out of the common store according to their appetite.

I don't want the world to give me anything for my books except money enough to save me from the temptation to write only for money.

In every parting there is an image of death.

But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.