It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.

When Man evolved Pity, he did a queer thing - deprived himself of the power of living life as it is without wishing it to become something different.

See what perils do environ those who meddle with hot iron.

I am still under the impression that there is nothing alive quite so beautiful as a thoroughbred horse.

A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, Nothing else.

The talked-about is always the last to hear the talk . . .

The law is what it is-a majestic edifice, sheltering all of us, each stone of which rests on another.