It may be remarked in passing that success is an ugly thing. Men are deceived by its false resemblences to merit.

We see past time in a telescope and present time in a microscope. Hence the apparent enormities of the present.

Often when we think we are knotting one thread, we are tying quite another.

The aim of art is almost divine: to bring to life again if it is writing history, to create if it is writing poetry.

Nothing can be sadder or more profound than to see a thousand things for the first and last time.

This book should be read as one would read the book of a dead man.

To love or have loved is all-sufficing. We must not ask for more. No other pearl is to be found in the shadowfolds of life. To love is an accomplishment.