To kill a human being is, after all, the least injury you can do him.

..her smile, which was her pretty feature, was never so pretty as when her sprightly phrase had a scratch lurking in it.

Always keep a window in the attic open; not just cracked: open.

He valued life and literature equally for the light they threw upon each other; to his mind one implied the other; he was unable to conceive of them apart.

It is art that makes life, makes interest, makes importance, for our consideration and application of these things, and I know of no substitute whatever for the force and beauty of its process.

We must for dear life make our own counter-realities.

Which of you with taking thought can add to his stature one cubit?