Effort ceases. Time flaps on the mast. There we stop; there we stand. Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame

There was a serenity about him always that had the look of innocence, when, technically, the word was no longer applicable.

One must love everything.

When I cannot see words curling like rings of smoke round me I am in darkness—I am nothing.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists; the reality of everything.

O why do I ever let anyone read what I write! Every time I have to go through a breakfast with a letter of criticism I swear I will write for my own praise or blame in future. It is a misery.

Habits and customs are a convenience devised for the support of timid natures who dare not allow their souls free play.