How strangely do we diminish a thing as soon as we try to express it in words.

We can never judge a soul above the high water mark of our own.

The souls of all our brethren are ever hovering about us, craving for a caress, and only waiting for the signal.

In any event, a truth that disheartens, because it is true, is still of far more value than the most stimulating of falsehoods.

Brave old-flowers! Wall-flowers, Gilly flowers, Stocks! For even as the field-flowers, from which a trifle, a ray of beauty, a drop of perfume, divides them, they have charming names, the softest in the language; and each of them, like tiny, art-less ex-votos, or like medals bestowed by the gratitude of men, proudly bears three or four.

To be good we must needs have suffered; but perhaps it is necessary to have caused suffering before we can become better.

Do we not all spend the greater part of our lives under the shadow of an event that has not yet come to pass?.