Fate loves the fearless.

The only conclusive evidence of a man's sincerity is that he gives himself for a principle. Words, money, all things else, are comparatively easy to give away; but when a man makes a gift of his daily life and practice, it is plain that the truth, whatever it may be, has taken possession of him.

There is no good in arguing with the inevitable. The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat.

Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide.

Who is it needs such flawless shafts as fate? What archer of his arrows is so choice, or hits the white so surely?

The nurse of full-grown souls is solitude.

Whoever can endure unmixed delight, whoever can tolerate music and painting and poetry all in one, whoever wishes to be rid of thought and to let the busy anvils of the brain be silent for a time, let him read in the "Faery Queen."