Pedestals are always lonely.

The heart's seasons seldom coincide with the calendar. Who among us has not been made desolate beyond all words upon some golden day when the little creatures of the air and meadow were life incarnate, from sheer joy of living? Who among us has not come home, singing, when the streets were almost impassable with snow, or met a friend with a happy, smiling face, in the midst of a pouring rain?

May our house always be too small to hold all of our friends.

The conventions of society are all in the interests of morality. If you're conventional, you'll be good, in a negative sense, of course.

Death is the advertisement, at the end of an autobiography, wherein people discover its virtues.

No woman need fear the effect of absence upon the man who honestly loves her. The needle of the compass, regardless of intervening seas, points forever toward the north. Pitiful indeed is she who fails to be a magnet and blindly becomes a chain.

At twenty, men love woman; at thirty, a woman; and at forty, women.