But their fondest thoughts went to the two sons who had brought honour and glory to their ancient name.
But the river, though it flowed so slowly, had still a sense of movement and it gave one a melancholy feeling of the transitoriness of things. Everything passed, and what trace of its passage remained...
Benevolence is often very peremptory.
Beauty is something wonderful and strange that the artist fashions out of the chaos of the world in the torment of his soul. And when he has made it, it is not given to all to know it. To recognize it...
Beauty does not look with good grace on the timid advances of Humour.
Almost all the people who’ve had the most effect on me I seem to have met by chance, yet looking back it seems as though I couldn’t but have met them.
All sensible people know that vanity is the most devastating, the most universal and the most ineradicable of the passions that afflict the soul of man, and it is only vanity that makes him deny its p...
After all, it's not my fault. I can't force myself to believe. If there is a God after all and he punishes me because I honestly don't believe in Him I can't help it.
According to your proclivities, you may take a snow-clad Alpine peak, as it rises to the empyrean in radiant majesty, as symbol of man's aspiration to union with the Infinite; or since, if you like to...
A woman can forgive a man for the harm he does her...but she can never forgive him for the sacrifices he makes on her account.
A God that can be understood is no God. Who can explain the Infinite in words?
I am willing to take life as a game of chess in which the first rules are not open to discussion. No one asks why the knight is allowed his eccentric hop, why the castle may only go straight and the b...
Every year hundreds of books, many of considerable merit, pass unnoticed. Each one has taken the author months to write, he may have had it in his mind for years; he has put into it something of himse...
When they found that he was not supercilious they told him long yarns of the distant journeys of their youth.
Wasn’t my fault, it was the circumstances. Can’t you forgive me?
She bombarded him with telegrams, asking him if he were ill and had received her letters; she said his silence made her dreadfully anxious.
One could do a dastardly thing if one chose, but it was contemptible to regret it afterwards.
His cheating and his bitterness and his cruelty were the revolt of his will against—oh, I don’t know what you’d call it—against a deep-rooted instinct of holiness, against a desire for God that terrif...
Don't think that women ought to sit down at table with men. It ruins conversation and I'm sure it's very bad for them. It puts ideas in their heads, and women are never at ease with themselves when th...
Contemned