Freedom may be a value in politics, but it is not a value in morals.

We must live by the light of our own self-satisfaction, through that secret vital busy inwardness which is even more remarkable than our reason.

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.

Love is the perception of individuals. Love is the extremely difficult realisation that something other than oneself is real.

How rarely can happiness be really innocent and not triumphant, not an insult to the deprived.

We defend ourselves by descriptions and tame the world by generalizing.

The cry of equality pulls everyone down.