The indefatigable pursuit of an unattainable perfection -even though nothing more than the pounding of an old piano -is what alone gives a meaning to our life on this unavailing star.

Happiness is a wine of the rarest vintage, and seems insipid to a vulgar taste.

How many of our daydreams would darken into nightmares if there seemed any danger of their coming true!

How it infuriates a bigot, when he is forced to drag out his dark convictions!

We need two kinds of acquaintances, one to complain to, while to the others we boast.

The test of a vocation is the love of the drudgery it involves.

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