Until you try, you don't know what you can't do.
I have in my own fashion learned the lesson that life is effort, unremittingly repeated.
Everything about Florence seems to be colored with a mild violet, like diluted wine.
I take up my own pen again - the pen of all my old unforgettable efforts and sacred struggles. To myself - today - I need say no more. Large and full and high the future still opens. It is now indeed that I may do the work of my life. And I will.
The black and merciless things that are behind the great possessions.
His kiss was like white lightning, a flash that spread, and spread again, and stayed.