...solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry and turmoil of life we receive counsels and comforts, we get under no other condition...
The great difference between voyages rests not with the ships, but with the people you meet on them.
Old age is the verdict of life.
That is the great mistake about the affections. It is not the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of kings, or the marching of armies that move them most. When they answer from their depths, it is to the domestic joys and tragedies of life.
Whatever the scientists may say, if we take the supernatural out of life, we leave only the unnatural.
But the lover's power is the poet's power. He can make love from all the common strings with which this world is strung.
All changes are more or less tinged with melancholy, for what we are leaving behind is part of ourselves.
The fate of love is that it always seems too little or too much.
It is little men know of women; their smiles and their tears alike are seldom what they seem.
When men make themselves into brutes it is just to treat them like brutes.
Events that are predestined require but little management. They manage themselves. They slip into place while we sleep, and suddenly we are aware that the thing we fear to attempt, is already accomplished.
This world is run with far too tight a rein for luck to interfere. Fortune sells her wares; she never gives them. In some form or other, we pay for her favors; or we go empty away.