Behind us, as we go, all things assume pleasing forms, as clouds do far off. Not only things familiar and stale, but even the tragic and terrible, are comely, as they take their place in the pictures of memory.

As we grow old, the beauty steals inward.

For you, o broker, there is no other principle but arithmetic. For me, commerce is of trivial import; love, faith, truth of character, the aspiration of man, these are sacred; nor can I detach one duty, like you, from all other duties, and concentrate my forces mechanically on the payment of moneys.

The man who renounces himself, comes to himself.

People wish to be settled; only as far as they are unsettled is there any hope for them.

The aid we can give each other is only incidental, lateral, and sympathetic.

The writer is an explorer. Every step is an advance into a new land.