I believe in the compelling power of love. I do not understand it. I believe it to be the most fragrant blossom of all this thorny existence.

Life is made for the strong. There is no mercy in it for the weak– none...Such is the tragedy of desire.

We who feel that justice is not being done have but one thing to do: that is fight, by argument, by example, by insistence on fair play wherever we have the power to do so. The rest is in the hands of the Lord, or nature, which swings, apparently, from one extreme to another.

Shakespeare, I come!

Remember, love is all a woman has to give, but it is the only thing which God permits us to carry beyond the grave.

If I were personally to define religion, I would say that it is a bandage that man has invented to protect a soul made bloody by circustance.

To the untraveled, territory other than their own familiar heath is invariably fascinating. Next to love it is the one thing that solaces and delights.