The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits. |
There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October |
This world owes all its forward impulses to people ill at ease. |
Time flies over us, but leaves it shadow behind |
Time flies over us, but leaves it shadow behind |
Ugliness without tact is horrible |
We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream; it may be so the moment after death. |
What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self ! |
What we call real estate - the solid ground to build a house on - is the broad foundation on which nearly all the guilt of this world rests |
Words -- so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. |
Yesterday I visited the British Museum; an exceedingly tiresome affair. It quite crushes a person to see so much at once; and I wandered from hall to hall with a weary and heavy heart. The present is burdened too much with the past. |
You are the only person in the world that was ever necessary to me. |
You can get assent to almost any proposition so long as you are not going to do anything about it. |