I am the family face; flesh perishes, I live on.

It was terribly beautiful to Tess today, for since her eyes last fell upon it she had learnt that the serpent hisses where the sweet birds sing.

Time changes everything except something within us which is always surprised by change.

There are accents in the eye which are not on the tongue, and more tales come from pale lips than can enter an ear. It is both the grandeur and the pain of the remoter moods that they avoid the pathway of sound.

War makes rattling good history.

Once let a maiden admit the possibility of her being stricken with love for some one at a certain hour and place, and the thing is as good as done.

That cold accretion called the world, so terrible in the mass, is so non formidable, even pitiable, in its units.