Failure after long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure.
Every woman is supposed to have the same set of motives, or else to be a monster.
Blessed is the man, who having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact.
It is a common enough case, that of a man being suddenly captivated by a woman nearly the opposite of his ideal.
Our passions do not live apart in locked chambers but dress in their small wardrobe of notions, bring their provisions to a common table and mess together, feeding out of the common store according to their appetite.
We hand folks over to God’s mercy, and show none ourselves.
The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they’re gone.
What makes life dreary is the want of a motive.
There is only one failure in life possible, and that is not to be true to the best one knows.
The best augury of a man’s success in his profession is that he thinks it the finest in the world.
More helpful than all wisdom is one draught of simple human pity that will not forsake us.
You may try but you can never imagine what it is to have a man’s form of genius in you, and to suffer the slavery of being a girl.
Strange, that some of us, with quick alternate vision, see beyond our infatuations, and even while we rave on the heights, behold the wide plain where our persistent self pauses and awaits us.
Human beliefs, like all other natural growths, elude the barrier of systems.
I should like to know what is the proper function of women, if it is not to make reasons for husbands to stay at home, and still stronger reasons for bachelors to go out.
He was like a cock who thought the sun had risen to hear him crow.
But human experience is usually paradoxical, that means incongruous with the phrases of current talk or even current philosophy.
The reward of one’s duty is the power to fulfill another.
The happiest women, like the happiest nations, have no history.
She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts.
In spite of his practical ability, some of his experience had petrified into maxims and quotations.
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