It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.

Often on a wet day I begin counting up; what I've read; what I haven't read.

Sleep, that deplorable curtailment of the joy of life.

Human beings have neither kindness, nor faith, nor charity beyond what serves to increase the pleasure of the moment.

Why does Samuel Butler say, 'Wise men never say what they think of women'? Wise men never say anything else apparently.

Let us not take for granted that life exists more fully in what is commonly thought big than in what is commonly thought small.

Love ought to stop on both sides, don’t you think, simultaneously?’ He spoke without any stress on the words, so as not to wake the sleepers. ‘But it won’t - that’s the devil,’ he added in the same undertone.