The gift of perfume to a flower is a special grace like genius or like beauty, and never becomes common or cheap.

What a severe yet master artist old Winter is... No longer the canvas and the pigments, but the marble and the chisel.

The atmosphere of our time is fast being cleared of the fumes and deadly gases that arose during the carboniferous age of theology.

Life is a struggle, but not a warfare.

Oh, Spring is surely coming, Her couriers fill the air; Each morn are new arrivals, Each night her ways prepare; I scent her fragrant garments, Her foot is on the stair.

The Kingdom of Heaven is not a place, but a state of mind.

The deeper our insight into the methods of nature . . . the more incredible the popular Christianity seems to us.