Philosophy, having crept clinging to the rocks so far, puts out its feelers many ways in vain.

What sort of space is that which separates a man from his fellows and makes him solitary?

Moral reform is the effort to throw off sleep.

It is dry, hazy June weather. We are more of the earth, farther from heaven these days.

I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary.

Real power is measured by how much you can let things be.

I pray that the life of this spring and summer may ever lie fair in my memory.