Going home must be like going to render an account.

Each blade of grass has its spot on earth whence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land from which he draws his faith together with his life.

There is no credulity so eager and blind as the credulity of covetousness, which, in its universal extent, measures the moral misery and the intellectual destitution of mankind.

There is never enough time to say our last word-the last word of our love, of our desire, faith, remorse, submission, revolt.

The vilest scramble for loot that ever disfigured the history of human conscience.

The reaches opened before us and closed behind, as if the forest had stepped leisurely across the water to bar the way for our return. We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness.

The artist in his calling of interpreter creates because he must. He is so much of a voice that, for him, silence is like death