No story ever really ends, and I think I know why.

I saw thee ne'er before; I see thee never more; But love, and help, and pain, beautiful one, Have made thee mine, till all my years are done.

Philosophy is really homesickness.

For when is the child the ideal child in our eyes and to our hearts? Is it not when with gentle hand he takes his father by the beard, and turns that father's face up to his brothers and sisters to kiss? when even the lovely selfishness of love-seeking has vanished, and the heart is absorbed in loving?

If we will but let our God and Father work His will with us, there can be no limit to His enlargement of our existence

What can money do to console a man with a headache?

You will be dead so long as you refuse to die.