... some of the things floating about in the Well of Memory are not worth recording.

One must desire something to be alive.

Habit does much to reconcile us to unpleasantness.

as everybody knows, truthfulness and agreeable manners are often divorced on the ground of incompatibility.

as I get older there is nothing more constantly astonishing to me than the goodness of the Bad; - unless it is the badness of the Good.

Some time in our lives every man and woman of us, putting out our hands toward the stars, touch on either side our prison walls the immutable limitations of temperament

Grief is the price Love pays for being in the same world with Death.