Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.

To be able to share in another's joy, that is the secret of happiness.

A thought which does not result in an action is nothing much, and an action which does not proceed from a thought is nothing at all.

A poor man with nothing in his belly needs hope, illusion, more than bread.

When writing of oneself one should show no mercy. Yet why at the first attempt to discover one's own truth does all inner strength seem to melt away in floods of self-pity and tenderness and rising tears?

Justice in the hands of the powerful is merely a governing system like any other. Why call it justice? Let us rather call it injustice, but of a sly effective order, based entirely on cruel knowledge of the resistance of the weak, their capacity for pain, humilation and misery. Injustice sustained at the exact degree of necessary tension to turn the cogs of the huge machine-for-the-making-of-rich-men, without bursting the boiler.

What a cunning mixture of sentiment, pity, tenderness, irony surrounds adolescence, what knowing watchfulness! Young birds on their first flight are hardly so hovered around.