What makes life dreary is the want of a motive.
It is not true that a man's intellectual power is, like the strength of a timber beam, to be measured by its weakest point.
Self-consciousness of the manner is the expensive substitute for simplicity.
The fact is, both callers and work thicken - the former sadly interfering with the latter.
I'm not one of those that can see the cat in the dairy and wonder what she's there for.
I have the conviction that excessive literary production is a social offense. ... Everyone who contributes to the 'too much' of literature is doing grave social injury.
Miserliness is a capital quality to run in families; it's the safe side for madness to dip on.
... one always believes one's own town to be more stupid than any other.
There is hardly any contact more depressing to a young ardent creature than that of a mind in which years full of knowledge seem to have issued in a blank absence of interest or sympathy.
If you deliver an opinion at all, it is mere stupidity not to do it with an air of conviction and well-founded knowledge. You make it your own in uttering it, and naturally get fond of it.
'Character," says Novalis, in one of his questionable aphorisms - character is destiny'.
History, we know, is apt to repeat itself.
Quarrel? Nonsense; we have not quarreled. If one is not to get into a rage sometimes, what is the good of being friends?
Alas! the scientific conscience had got into the debasing company of money obligation and selfish respects.
bad literature of the sort called amusing is spiritual gin.
What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?
We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder to feed our supreme selves
A maggot must be born i' the rotten cheese to like it.
Perhaps the most delightful friendships are those in which there is much agreement, much disputation, and yet more personal liking.
May every soul that touches mine - be it the slightest contact - get there from some good; some little grace; one kindly thought; one aspiration yet unfelt; one bit of courage for the darkening sky; one gleam of faith to brave the thickening ills of life; one glimpse of brighter skies beyond the gathering mists - to make this life worthwhile.
One must be poor to know the luxury of giving!
The darkest night that ever fell upon the earth never hid the light, never put out the stars. It only made the stars more keenly, kindly glancing, as if in protest against the darkness.
And, of course men know best about everything, except what women know better.
It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses we must plant more trees.
Starting a long way off the true point, and proceeding by loops and zigzags , we now and then arrive just where we ought to be.
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