“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.”

Human feeling is like the mighty rivers that bless the earth: it does not wait for beauty – it flows with resistless force and brings beauty with it.

It is always good to know, if only in passing, charming human beings. It refreshes one like flowers and woods and clear brooks.

Conscience is harder than our enemies, Knows more, accuses with more nicety.

There is no killing the suspicion that deceit has once begotten.

Knowledge slowly builds up what Ignorance in an hour pulls down.

It is painful to be told that anything is very fine and not be able to feel that it is fine–something like being blind, while people talk of the sky.

One must be poor to know the luxury of giving!

After all, the true seeing is within.

When God makes His presence felt through us, we are like the burning bush: Moses never took any heed what sort of bush it was—he only saw the brightness of the Lord.

Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words.

It’s no use filling your pocket with money if you have got a hole in the corner.

We want people to feel with us more than to act for us.

It is pleasant to have a kind word now and then when one is not near enough to have a kind glance or a hearty shake by the hand.

In travelling I shape myself betimes to idleness And take fools’ pleasure

“Heaven help us,” said the old religion; the new one, from its very lack of that faith, will teach us all the more to help one another.

There is only one failure in life possible, and that is not to be true to the best one knows.