Responsibility's like a string we can only see the middle of. Both ends are out of sight.

The world belongs to the Enthusiast who keeps cool.

A young man must let his ideas grow, not be continually rooting them up to see how they are getting on.

The artist in his teens who is happy is a charlatan. Life comes bursting in all around lis too suddenly, too crudely, too cruelly, for happiness.

The wives who are not deserted, but who have to feed and clothe and comfort and scold and advise, are the true objects of commiseration; wives whose existence is given over to a ceaseless vigil of cantankerous affection.

There is nothing like an odor to stir memories.

People don't ever seem to realize that doing what's right, writes no guarantee against misfortune.