The aim of life is some way of living, as flexible and gentle as human nature; so that ambition may stoop to kindness, and philosophy to condor and humor. Neither prosperity nor empire nor heaven can be worth winning at the price of a virulent temper, bloody hands, an anguished spirit, and a vain hatred of the rest of the world.

Manhood and sagacity ripen of themselves; it suffices not to repress or distort them.

The Fates, like an absent-minded printer, seldom allow a single line to stand perfect and unmarred.

Music is essentially useless, as is life.

Animals are born and bred in litters. Solitude grows blessed and peaceful only in old age.

Parents lend children their experience and a vicarious memory; children endow their parents with a vicarious immortality.

Language is like money, without which specific relative values may well exist and be felt, but cannot be reduced to a common denominator.