The same battle in the clouds will be known to the deaf only as lightning and to the blind only as thunder.

Memory itself is an internal rumour.

Many possessions, if they do not make a man better, are at least expected to make his children happier; and this pathetic hope is behind many exertions.

We need sometimes to escape into open solitudes, into aimlessness, into the moral holiday of running some pure hazard in order to sharpen the edge of life, to taste hardship, and to be compelled to work desperately for a moment at no matter what.

To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.

The fly that prefers sweetness to a long life may drown in honey.

Prayer is not a substitute for work; it is an effort to work further and be efficient beyond the range of one's powers.