Beginnings are always messy.

Once admit that we have the right to inflict unnecessary suffering and you destroy the very basis of human society.

Memory heaps dead leaves on corpse-like deeds, from under which they do but vaguely offend the sense.

Love is not a hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind. A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild!

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.

The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy.

As a man lives and thinks, so he will write.