The road recedes as the traveler advances, leaving a continuous present.

Nature is forever arriving and forever departing, forever approaching, forever vanishing; but in her vanishings there seems to be ever the waving of a hand, in all her partings a promise of meetings farther along the road.

You can't fake it. Bad writing is a gift.

More and more the world is growing to love a lover, and one has only to read the newspapers to see how sympathetic are the times to any generous and adventurous display of the passions.

It is curious how, from time immemorial, man seems to have associated the idea of evil with beauty, shrunk from it with a sort of ghostly fear, while, at the same time drawn to it by force of its hypnotic attraction.

Stay the course, light a star, Change the world where'er you are.

Wild oats will get sown some time, and one of the arts of life is to sow them at the right time.