If only the picture could grow old, and I stay young. For that...for that, I would give my SOUL for that.

Football is all very well as a game for rough girls, but is hardly suitable for delicate boys.

For he who lives more lives than one more deaths than one must die.

Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons. We can only record its moods, and chronicle their return. With us time itself does not progress. It revolves. It seems to circle round one center of pain.

I would not a bit mind sleeping in the cool grass in summer, and when winter came on sheltering myself by the warm close-thatched rick, or under the penthouse of a great barn, provided I had love in my heart.

The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret.

You have never been poor, and never known what ambition is.