The leaves are falling, falling as from way off, as though far gardens withered in the skies; they are falling with denying gestures. And in the nights the heavy earth is falling from all the stars down into loneliness. We all are falling. This hand falls. And look at others: it is in them all. And yet there is one who holds this falling endlessly gently in his hands.

Any extraordinary degree of beauty in man or woman involves a moral charm.

The moment we indulge our affections, the earth is metamorphosed.

Every man in his lifetime needs to thank his faults.

Luck is just another word for tenacity of purpose.

If a man's eye is on the Eternal, his intellect will grow.

Oh, be my friend, and teach me to be thine!