For man is essentially alone, and one should pity him and love him and grieve with him.

When a man has a flower in his life he builds a house.

No one is so busy that he hasn't the time to dismantle a work of art.

What you have stolen can never be yours.

For man is essentially alone, and one should pity him and love him and grieve with him.

My opinion has always been this, that you ought to never give up as long as you live, even though they have stolen everything from you. If nothing else, you can always call the air you breath your own, or at any rate you can claim that you have it on loan. Yes, lass, last night I ate stolen bread and left my son among men who are going to use pick-handles on the authorities, so I thought I might just as well look you up this morning.

One boy's footprints are not long in being lost in the snow, in the steadily falling snow of the shortest day, the longest night; they are lost as soon as they are made. And once again the heath is clothed in drifting white. And there is no ghost, save the one ghost that lives in the heart of a motherless boy, till his footprints disappear.