Women can do nothing that has permanence.

It is a strange thing to come home. While yet on the journey, you cannot at all realize how strange it will be.

There is so little that one can do for the dead!

Young horses who cannot bear the whip or spur find life hard. At every smart they start forward and rush to their destruction, and when the way is stony and difficult, they know no better expedient than to overturn the cart and gallop madly away.

There isn't much that tastes better than praise from those who are wise and capable.

There is so much one would rather not believe until one has seen for oneself whether it is true.

Have you ever seen a child sitting on its mother’s knee listening to fairy stories? As long as the child is told of cruel giants and of the terrible suffering of beautiful princesses, it holds its head up and its eyes open; but if the mother begins to speak of happiness and sunshine, the little one closes its eyes and falls asleep with its head against her breast. . . . I am a child like that, too. Others may like stories of flowers and sunshine; but I choose the dark nights and sad destinies.