Menu
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
Death is the king of this world: ‘Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.
Is it not rather what we expect in men, that they should have numerous strands of experience lying side by side and never compare them with each other?
You should read history and look at ostracism, persecution, martyrdom, and that kind of thing. They always happen to the best men, you know.
Little children are still the symbol of the eternal marriage between love and duty.
Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love.
Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another.
I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved.
Knowledge slowly builds up what Ignorance in an hour pulls down.
There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little fire it is hardly a passion, but a blight bred in the cloudy, damp despondency of uneasy egoism.