The Lord grant we may all be tillers of the soil.

However stupid a fools words may be, they are sometimes enough to confound an intelligent man.

Perfect nonsense goes on in the world. Sometimes there is no plausibility at all

A word aptly uttered or written cannot be cut away by an axe.

We ought to thank God for that. Yes, the man who tills the land is more worthy of respect than any.

What is stronger in us — passion or habit? Or are all the violent impulses, all the whirl of our desires and turbulent passions, only the consequence of our ardent age, and is it only through youth that they seem deep and shattering?

It is well-known that there are many faces in the world over the finishing of which nature did not take much trouble, did not employ any fine tools such as files, gimlets, and so on, but simply hacked them out with round strokes: one chop-a nose appears; another chop-lips appear; eyes are scooped out with a big drill; and she lets it go into the world rough-hewn, saing: "ALIVE!