the blue and cloudless day closes like the lid of a casket of jewels upon the violet rim of sea, and shuts out the light.

a great moment raises most of the people who experience it, to its own level; and that is why they do not always recognize its greatness - or their own.

War is wicked, beause it is murder and hate. And it is foolish, because hate and murder can only destroy people's bodies, not change their minds.

One must desire something to be alive; perhaps absolute satisfaction is only another name for Death.

faith, it seems to me, is not the holding of certain dogmas; it is simply openness and readiness of heart to believe any truth which God may show.

There is a bond, it appears, between mother and child which endures as long as they do. It is independent of love; reason cannot weaken it; hate cannot destroy it.

I'm not to blame for an old body, but I would be to blame for an old soul. An old soul is a shameful thing.