Youth is the time for adventures of the body, but age for the triumphs of the mind.

A slight touch of friendly malice and amusement towards those we love keeps our affections for them from turning flat.

Don't laugh at youth for his affectations; he is only trying on one face after another to find his own.

It is the dread of something happening, something unknown and dreadful, that makes us do anything to keep the flicker of talk from dying out.

The lusts and greeds of the body scandalize the Soul; but it has to come to heel.

When we say we are certain so-and-so can't possibly have done it, what we mean is that we think he very likely did.

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.