A human act once set in motion flows on forever to the great account. Our deathlessness is in what we do, not in what we are.

Cultivated men and women who do not skim the cream of life, and are attached to the duties, yet escape the harsher blows, make acute and balanced observers.

The stench of the trail of Ego in our History. It is ego - ego, the fountain cry, origin, sole source of war.

Heiresses are never jilted.

The future not being born, my friend, we will abstain from baptizing it.

Among the Diaries beginning with the second quarter of our century, there is frequent mention of a lady then becoming famous for her beauty and her wit: "an unusual combination," in the deliberate syllables of one of the writers, who is, however, not disposed to personal irony when speaking of her.

As we to the brutes, poets are to us.