“The troublesome ones in a family are usually either the wits or the idiots.”

The important work of moving the world forward does not wait to be done by perfect men.

Justice is like the kingdom of God–it is not without us as a fact, it is within us as a great yearning.

If the past is not to bind us, where can duty lie? We should have no law but the inclination of the moment.

Adventure is not outside man; it is within.

Hold up your head! You were not made for failure, you were made for victory. Go forward with a joyful confidence.

Any coward can fight a battle when he’s sure of winning; but give me the man who has the pluck to fight when he’s sure of losing.

We have had an unspeakably delightful journey, one of those journeys which seem to divide one’s life in two, by the new ideas they suggest and the new views of interest they open.

The world is full of hopeful analogies and handsome, dubious eggs, called possibilities.

Souls live on in perpetual echoes.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it.

The thing we look forward to often comes to pass, but never precisely in the way we have imagined to ourselves.

These gems have life in them: their colors speak, say what words fail of.

… it is one thing to like defiance, and another thing to like its consequences.

But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.

What are a handful of reasonable men against a crowd with stones in their hands?

Do we not all agree to call rapid thought and noble impulse by the name of inspiration?

I’m not who you think I am, I had said to T.J. the last time I’d seen him. Maybe I wasn’t who I’d thought I was either.

And that can even be extremely lucrative, but I love it either way.

People are ready to do either, and the content has to work on both.

Our rule with cliches is to either gently acknowledge them and make fun of them, or do something else.

Many to whom the first victory over the opponent has been long denied either by unfortunate circumstances

It’s either my tenacity or my stupidity, I’m not sure which.

Whenever she uses the phrase ‘I was thinking…,’ that means I either have to move, paint or buy something.

To a woman–I mean, a nice woman–there is no such thing as men. There is a man; and either she is so fond of him that she can talk of nothing else, however unfavourably, or so much in love with him that she never mentions his name.