There is something mean in human nature that prefers to think evil, that gives a willing ear and a ready welcome to calumny, a sort of jealousy of goodness and greatness and things of good report.

Organized Christianity has probably done more to retard the ideals that were its founder's than any other agency in the world.

The beauty we love is very silent. It smiles softly to itself, but never speaks.

All roads indeed lead to Rome, but theirs also is a more mystical destination, some bourne of which no traveller knows the name, some city, they all seem to hint, even more eternal.

All myths that are something more than fancies gain rather than lose in value with time, by reason of the accretions of human experience.

Celestial spirit that doth roll; The heart's sepulchral stone away, Be this our resurrection day, The singing Easter of the soul - O gentle Master of the Wise, Teach us to say: "I will arise."

A woman's beauty is one of her great missions.