Happiness is a wondrous commodity: the more you give, the more you have.

When at eve, at the bounding of the landscape, the heavens appear to recline so slowly on the earth, imagination pictures beyond the horizon an asylum of hope, - a native land of love; and nature seems silently to repeat that man is immortal.

How much past there is in a life, however brief it be.

[Moralistic] novels are at the same disadvantage as teachers: children never believe them, because they make everything that happens relate to the lesson at hand.

There is no reality on this earth except religion and the power of love; all the rest is even more fugitive than life itself.

There is no second country for an Englishman, except a ship and the sea.

The mystery of existence is the connection between our faults and our misfortunes.