Memory can glean, but can never renew. It brings us joys faint as is the perfume of the flowers, faded and dried, of the summer that is gone.

Some people are so dry that you might soak them in a joke for a month and it would not get through their skins.

Discover what you are.

God has made sleep to be a sponge by which to rub out fatigue. A man's roots are planted in night as in a soil.

“I can forgive, but I cannot forget,” is only another way of saying, “I will not forgive.”

I think half the troubles for which men go slouching in prayer to God are caused by their intolerable pride. Many of our cares are but a morbid way of looking at our privileges. We let our blessings get mouldy, and then call them curses.

Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?