The virtues of society are vices of the saint. The terror of reform is the discovery that we must cast away our virtues, or what we have always esteemed such, into the same pit that has consumed our grosser vices.

We seldom see anybody who is not uneasy or afraid to live.

How casually and unobservedly we make all our most valued acquaintances.

It does not hurt weak eyes to look into beautiful eyes never so long.

Heaven walks among us ordinarily muffled in such triple or tenfold disguises that the wisest are deceived and no one suspects the days to be gods.

The bitterest tragic element in life to be derived from an intellectual source is the belief in a brute Fate or Destiny.

You have just dined, and however scrupulously the slaughterhouse is concealed in the graceful distance of miles, there is complicity.