“Man’s real life is happy, chiefly because he is ever expecting that it soon will be so.”

I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.

That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.

Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries.

The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls.

The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found.

The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.

I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.

I am a writer. Therefore, I am not sane.

The believer is happy. The doubter is wise.

I have great faith in fools – self-confidence my friends will call it.

If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.

Convinced myself, I seek not to convince.

It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?

There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm.

Love and hope can conquer hate.

Books are like mirrors: if a fool looks in, you cannot expect a genius to look out.

You cannot plant an acorn in the morning, and expect that afternoon to sit in the shade of an oak.

The secret to happiness is having low expectations.

Act without expectation.

An irresponsible person is a person who makes vague promises, then breaks his word, blames it on circumstances and expects other people to forgive it.

Expect the best. Prepare for the worst. Capitalize on what comes.

Black and Third World people are expected to educate white people as to our humanity.