Thank heavens, the sun has gone in and I don’t have to go out and enjoy it.

How can they say my life is not a success? Have I not for more than sixty years got enough to eat and escaped being eaten?

An improper mind is a perpetual feast.

What joy can the years bring half so sweet as the unhappiness they've taken away?

I am one of the unpraised, unrewarded millions without whom Statistics would be a bankrupt science. It is we who are born, who marry, who die, in constant ratios.

Only those who get into scrapes with their eyes open can find the safe way out.

An echo of music, a face in the street, the wafer of the new moon, a wanton thought - only in the iridescence of things the vagabond soul is happy.