It has been said that good prose should resemble the conversation of a well-bred man.

Some of us look for the Way in opium and some in God, some of us in whiskey and some in love. It is all the same Way and it leads nowhither.

I always find it more difficult to say the things I mean than the things I don't.

I can imagine no more comfortable frame of mind for the conduct of life than a humorous resignation.

There are few things so pleasant as a picnic eaten in perfect comfort.

The highest activities of consciousness have their origins in physical occurrences of the brain, just as the loveliest melodies are not too sublime to be expressed by notes.

Perhaps some deep-rooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history. Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest.