Women have served all these centuries as looking glasses possessing the power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size.

Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, halfway down, in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; the waves swayed this way and that, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look so sad.

Literature is no one’s private ground, literature is common ground; let us trespass freely and fearlessly and find our own way for ourselves.

All extremes are dangerous.

There is the strange power we have of changing facts by the force of the imagination.

Why, he wondered, did people who had been asleep always want to make out that they were extremely wide-awake?

Somewhere, everywhere, now hidden, now apparent in what ever is written down, is the form of a human being. If we seek to know him, are we idly occupied?