Joy and sorrow are both my perpetual companions, but the joy is called Past and the sorrow Present.
bad literature of the sort called amusing is spiritual gin.
Alas! the scientific conscience had got into the debasing company of money obligation and selfish respects.
Genius is the capacity for receiving and improving by discipline.
... it is one thing to like defiance, and another thing to like its consequences.
An ass may bray a good while before he shakes the stars down.
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.
Our life is determined for us--and it makes the mind very free when we give up wishing, and only think of bearing what is laid upon us, and doing what is given us to do.
We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder to feed our supreme selves
Her little butterfly soul fluttered incessantly between memory and dubious expectation.
Of a truth, Knowledge is power, but it is a power reined by scruple, having a conscience of what must be and what may be. . . .
A maggot must be born i' the rotten cheese to like it.
There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.
To fear the examination of any proposition apears to me an intellectual and a moral palsy that will ever hinder the firm grasping of any substance whatever.
To know intense joy without a strong bodily frame, one must have an enthusiastic soul.
For what we call illusions are often, in truth, a wider vision of past and present realities - a willing movement of a man's soul with the larger sweep of the world's forces - a movement towards a more assured end than the chances of a single life.
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.
I carry my unwritten poems in cipher on my face!
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.
Pity that consequences are determined not by excuses but by actions!
The mother's love is at first an absorbing delight, blunting all other sensibilities; it is an expansion of the animal existence; it enlarges the imagined range for self to move in: but in after years it can only continue to be joy on the same terms as other long-lived love--that is, by much suppression of self, and power of living in the experience of another.
Looking at your life as a debt may seem the dreariest view of things at a distance; but it cannot really be so. What makes life dreary is the want of motive; but once beginning to act with the penitential, loving purpose you have in your mind, there will be unexpected satisfactions--there will be newly-opening needs--continually coming to carry you on from day to day. You will find your life growing like a plant.
I desire no future that will break the ties of the past.
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.
Acting is nothing more or less than playing. The idea is to humanize life.
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