The obscurest epoch is to-day.

Suicide carried off many. Drink and the devil took care of the rest

The web, then, or the pattern, a web at once sensuous and logical, an elegant and pregnant texture: that is style, that is the foundation of the art of literature.

He who has learned to love an art or science has wisely laid up riches against the day of riches.

There is a certain frame of mind to which a cemetery is, if not an antidote, at least an alleviation. If you are in a fit of the blues, go nowhere else.

The spirit of delight comes in small ways.

You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.