Of all the bewildering things about a new country, the absence of human landmarks is one of the most depressing and disheartening.

In great misfortunes, people want to be alone. They have a right to be. And the misfortunes that occur within one are the greatest. Surely the saddest thing in the world is falling out of love--if once one has ever fallen in.

People live through such pain only once. Pain comes again—but it finds a tougher surface.

The trees and shrubbery seemed well-groomed and social, like pleasant people.

Merely having seen the season change in a country gave one the sense of having been there for a long time.

When we look back, the only things we cherish are those which in some way met our original want; the desire which formed in us in early youth, undirected, and of its own accord.

One summer evening in the year 1848, three Cardinals and a missionary were dining together in the gardens of a villa in the Sabine hills, overlooking Rome.