... Though Mathematics May Teach A Man How To Build A Bridge, It Is What The Scotch Universities Call The Humanities, That Teach Him To Be Civil And Sweet-tempered.
A Poverty That Is Universal May Be Cheerfully Borne; It Is An Individual Poverty That Is Painful And Humiliating.
A Man Nearly Sixty Is Just As Ready To Suppose Himself Fascinating As A Man Of Twenty.
... How Poorly Do We Love Even Those Whom We Love Most! We Are Not Only Bruised By The Limitations Of Their Love For Us, But Also By The Limitations Of Our Own Love For Them.
... Good And Evil Are So Interwoven In Life That Every Good, Traced Up Far Enough, Is Found To Involve Evil. This Is The Great Mystery Of Life.
... Trouble Of All Kinds Is Voluble, And Has Plenty Of Words, But Happiness Was Never Written Down.
... If Fiction Does Not Show Us A Better Life Than Reality, What Is The Good Of It?
All My Life Long I Have Been Sensible Of The Injustice Constantly Done To Women. Since I Have Had To Fight The World Single-handed, There Has Not Been One Day I Have Not Smarted Under The Wrongs I Have Had To Bear, Because I Was Not Only A Woman, But A Woman Doing A Man's Work, Without Any Man, Husband, Son, Brother Or Friend, To Stand At My Side, And To See Some Semblance Of Justice Done Me. I Cannot Forget, For Injustice Is A Sixth Sense, And Rouses All The Others.
A Little Misgiving In The Beginning Of Things, Means Much Regret In The End Of Them.
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.
