...our impulses are too strong for our judgement sometimes

Of love it may be said, the less earthly the less demonstrative. In its absolutely indestructible form it reaches a profundity in which all exhibition of itself is painful.

But no one came. Because no one ever does.

There was now a distinct manifestation of morning in the air, and presently the bleared white visage of a sunless winter day emerged like a dead-born child.

Love is a possible strength in an actual weakness.

Though a good deal is too strange to be believed, nothing is too strange to have happened.

It is rarely that the pleasures of the imagination will compensate for the pain of sleeplessness.