Man is, perhaps, no more prone to war than he used to be and no more inclined to commit other evil deeds. But a given amount of ill will or folly will go further than it used to.

Man is the only one in whom the instinct of life falters long enough to enable it to ask the question "Why?

A tragic writer does not have to believe in God, but he must believe in man.

How anyone can profess to find animal life interesting and yet take delight in reducing the wonder of any animal to a bloody mass of fur or feathers?

Every time a value is born, existence takes on a new meaning; every time one dies, some part of that meaning passes away.

Happiness is a kind of gratitude and vice versa.

Though many have tried, no one has ever yet explained away the decisive fact that science, which can do so much, cannot decide what it ought to do.