Perhaps it is while drinking tea that I most of all enjoy the sense of leisure.
Parks are but pavement disguised with a growth of grass.
Money is time. With money I buy for cheerful use the hours which otherwise would not in any sense be mine; nay, which would make me their miserable bondsman.
Life, I fancy, would very often be insupportable, but for the luxury of self compassion.
That is one of the bitter curses of poverty; it leaves no right to be generous.
It is the mind which creates the world around us, and even though we stand side by side in the same meadow, my eyes will never see what is beheld by yours, my heart will never stir to the emotions with which yours is touched.