There is too much doing - too little being! When we begin to get strenuous, life begins to grow intolerable.

it was a sly trick of God's to give a man work to do - it kept him from asking questions that God couldn't answer.

Here and there on the branch of an oak a congress of leaves still clung, rigid as flakes of bronze.

The past ... is a dim avenue down which we may walk and find the diverging paths of terror and beauty and passion.

Time, designing slowly, swiftly; Time, destroying slowly, swiftly; Time holding, possessing the earth in its tender indifference.

The snow again. White, white net of beauty, net of dream, trapping the earth, trapping the helpless heart of life.

God, what pathetic creatures had inherited the earth, to walk a little while with their eyes upon the stars and turn their gaze too soon upon the ground that held their feet!