Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.

The serious people who took him seriously never felt quite sure of his deportment; they were somehow aware that trusting their reputations for judgment with him was like furnishing a nursery with egg-shell china.

There is nothing in machinery, there is nothing in embankments and railways and iron bridges and engineering devices to oblige them to be ugly. Ugliness is the measure of imperfection.

In all the round world there is no meat. There used to be. But now we cannot stand the thought of slaughterhouses.

It is not much good thinking of a thing unless you think it out.

once you lose yourself, you have two choices: find the person you used to be, or lose that person completely.

It is when suffering finds a voice and sets our nerves quivering that this pity comes troubling us.