Only solitary men know the full joys of frienship. Others have their family; but to a solitary and an exile, his friends are everything.

I've seen it before. There are women who spread ruin through no fault of theirs, just by being too beautiful, too ful of life and love. They can't help it. Poeple come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter.

Yes, and because we grow old we become more and more the stuff our forbears put into us. I can feel his savagery strengthen in me. We think we are so individual and so misunderstood when we are young; but the nature our strain of blood carries is inside there, waiting, like our skeleton.

There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face of the country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season, holding nothing back.

Life began for me, when I ceased to admire and began to remember.

Oh, that's the beauty of the rose, that it blossoms and dies.

The heart, when it is too much alive, aches for that brown earth, and ecstasy has no fear of death.