Great griefs exhaust. They discourage us with life. The man into whom they enter feels something taken from him. In youth, their visit is sad; later on, it is ominous.

Logic ignores the almost, just as the sun ignores the candle.

Common sense is in spite of, not as the result of education.

There is no such thing as a little country. The greatness of a people is no more determined by their numbers than the greatness of a man is by his height.

It seemed to be a necessary ritual that he should prepare himself for sleep by meditating under the solemnity of the night sky... a mysterious transaction between the infinity of the soul and the infinity of the universe.

It is from books that wise men derive consolation in the troubles of life.

Should we continue to look upwards? Is the light we can see in the sky one of those which will presently be extinguished? The ideal is terrifying to behold... brilliant but threatened on all sides by the dark forces that surround it: nevertheless, no more in danger than a star in the jaws of the clouds.