To be idle requires a strong sense of personal identity.

Sing a song of seasons; something bright in all, flowers in the summer, fires in the fall.

Some people swallow the universe like a pill; they travel on through the world, like smiling images pushed from behind.

To forget oneself is to be happy.

But even if we take matrimony at its lowest, even if we regard it as no more than a sort of friendship recognised by the police, there must be degrees in the freedom and sympathy realised, and some principle to guide simple folk in their selection.

Anyone can carry their burden, however hard, until nightfall. Anyone can do their work, however hard, for one day.

Every man has a sane spot somewhere.