The great tragedy of atheists is that they walk through this world and have no one to thank.

Men are so accustomed to maintaining external order by violence that they cannot conceive of life being possible without violence.

He knew she was there by the joy and terror that took possession of his heart [...] Everything was lit up by her. She was the smile that brightened everything around.

And the light by which she had read the book filled with troubles, falsehoods, sorrow, and evil, flared up more brightly than ever before, lighted up for her all that had been in darkness, flickered, began to grow dim, and was quenched forever.

Every man had his personal habits, passions, and impulses toward goodness, beauty, and truth.

She did not want to talk of her sorrow, but with that sorrow in her heart she could not talk of outside matters.

I am sure that nothing has such a decisive influence upon a man's course as his personal appearance, and not so much his appearance as his belief in its attractiveness or unattractiveness.