“Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.”

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.

Our deeds still travel with us from afar, and what we have been makes us what we are.

What a wretched lot of old shrivelled creatures we shall be by-and-by. Never mind – the uglier we get in the eyes of others, the lovelier we shall be to each other; that has always been my firm faith about friendship.

What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other?

I like breakfast-time better than any other moment in the day. No dust has settled on one’s mind then, and it presents a clear mirror to the rays of things.

It is hard to believe long together that anything is “worth while,” unless there is some eye to kindle in common with our own, some brief word uttered now and then to imply that what is infinitely precious to us is precious alike to another mind.

Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another.

She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts.

I like not only to be loved, but to be told that I am loved; the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave.

What makes life dreary is the want of a motive.

Much of our waking experience is but a dream in the daylight.

Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the blot? I know no speck so troublesome as self.

I love not to be choked with other men’s thoughts.

When she’s drenched in agony and soaked in pain, her smile holds the art this world is dying to learn.

I hate and love. You ask, perhaps, how can that be? I know not, but I feel the agony.

I hate and I love. And if you ask me how, I do not know: I only feel it, and I am torn in two.

I won a really big fellowship to go straight on to get my Ph.D. And I went through agonies of indecision, and then I decided not to accept it. I just decided I didn’t want to be an academic.

Forgiveness gives birth to freedom so forgive them and set yourself free from the delusion of their chains and from the agony in your reality.

We don’t like trading agony for money

I have laughed, in bitterness and agony of heart, at the contrast between what I seem and what I am!

When most people don’t know what real agony is, some of us live on the hope that “someday things might get better”, being not really sure if they ever will.