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Some great men owe most of their greatness to the ability of detecting in those they destine for their tools the exact quality of strength that matters for their work.
It is a maudlin and indecent verity that comes out through the strength of wine.
A man’s real life is that accorded to him in the thoughts of other men by reason of respect or natural love.
I take it that what all men are really after is some form or perhaps only some formula of peace.
The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.
All ambitions are lawful except those which climb upward on the miseries or credulities of mankind.
Going home must be like going to render an account.
History repeats itself, but the special call of an art which has passed away is never reproduced. It is as utterly gone out of the world as the song of a destroyed wild bird.
How does one kill fear, I wonder? How do you shoot a specter through the heart, slash off its spectral head, take it by its spectral throat?
Perhaps life is just that… a dream and a fear.