Life is a message scribbled in the dark.

And the rest is rust and stardust.

Whatever his secret was, I have learnt one secret too, and namely: that the soul is but a manner of being - not a constant state - that any soul may be yours, if you find and follow its undulations. The hereafter may be the full ability of consciously living in any chosen soul, in any number of souls, all of them unconscious of their interchangeable burden.

Perhaps if the future existed, concretely and individually, as something that could be discerned by a better brain, the past would not be so seductive: its demands would be balanced by those of the future.

Our imagination flies -- we are its shadow on the earth.

I adore you, mon petit, and would never allow him to hurt you, no matter how gently or madly.

No difference exists between American and European manners. A proletarian from Chicago can be just as Philistine as an English duke.