Yet we must try the harder, the less the prospect of success.
We do not live by justice, but by grace.
Truth is always paradoxical.
I was not born to be forced.
I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beechtree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines.
The thinnest yellow light of November is more warming and exhilarating than any wine they tell of. The mite which November contributes becomes equal in value to the bounty of July.