Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen.

We live ruins amid ruins.

The vanishing, volatile froth of the present which any shadow will alter, any thought blow away, any event annihilate, is every moment converted into the adamantine.

I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new.

I should as soon think of swimming across Charles River, when I wish to go to Boston, as of reading all my books in originals, when I have them rendered for me in my mother tongue.

Our moods do not believe in each other.

We say the cows laid out Boston. Well, there are worse surveyors.