“I can say with sincerity that I like cats. A cat is an animal which has more human feelings than almost any other.”

I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!

I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me.

Worthless as wither’d weeds.

You know, I’ve had a bitter, hard life since I last heard your voice and if I’ve survived it’s all because of you.

There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: Thou – Thou art Being and Breath, And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

They forgot everything the minute they were together again.

He might as well plant an oak in a flowerpot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!

If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.

Honest people don’t hide their deeds.

Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.

I’m wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there; not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart; but really with it, and in it.

He was attached by ties stronger than reason could break — chains, forged by habit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen.

I have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat!

Thoughts are tyrants that return again and again to torment us.

Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?

Time brought resignation and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.

In this wilderness, Mankind is the animal I fear.

People always say that, like, you’re a dog person or a cat person. I just love animals. I’m not a dog person or a cat person.

I guess I’m a little weird. I like to talk to trees and animals. That’s okay though; I have more fun than most people.

The proper definition of a man is an animal that writes letters.

People’s hearts are like wild animals. They attach their selves to those that love and train them.

The animal needing something knows how much it needs, the man does not.

As long as man continues to be the ruthless destroyer of lower living beings he will never know health or peace. For as long as men massacre animals, they will kill each other.

The soul of man is divided into three parts, intelligence, reason, and passion. Intelligence and passion are possessed by other animals, but reason by man alone.