A thousand kindnesses do not make up for a thousand blows.

Women have no wilderness in them They are provident instead Content in the tight hot cell of their hearts To eat dusty bread.

... how much of our inner substance is it good for us to give to public griefs? The whole modern tendency to agonize over the suffering of the entire globe is surely something new.

Your work is carved out of agony as a statue is carved out of marble.

A thousand kindnesses do not make up for a thousand blows.

I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy!

I have lost faith in universal panaceas - work is the one thing in which I really believe.