There is more done with pens than with swords.

Of course, in a novel, people's hearts break, and they die and that is the end of it; and in a story this is very convenient. But in real life we do not die when all that makes life bright dies to us.

There are in this world two kinds of natures, - those that have wings, and those that have feet, - the winged and the walking spirits. The walking are the logicians; the winged are the instinctive and poetic.

Eyes that have never wept cannot comprehend sorrow.

That ignorant confidence in one's self and one's future, which comes in life's first dawn, has a sort of mournful charm in experienced eyes, who know how much it all amounts to.

Can anybody tell what sorrows are locked up with our best affections, or what pain may be associated with every pleasure?

Never give up, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.