Who knows what true loneliness is - not the conventional word but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion.
History repeats itself, but the special call of an art which has passed away is never reproduced. It is as utterly gone out of the world as the song of a destroyed wild bird.
Being a woman is a terribly difficult task, since it consists principally in dealing with men.
Each blade of grass has its spot on earth whence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land from which he draws his faith together with his life.
For all that has been said of the love that certain natures (on shore) have professed for it, for all the celebrations it has been the object of in prose and song, the sea has never been friendly to man. At most it has been the accomplice of human restlessness.
The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.
Going home must be like going to render an account.
The last thing a woman will consent to discover in a man whom she loves, or on whom she simply depends, is want of courage.
You can't, in sound morals, condemn a man for taking care of his own integrity. It is his clear duty.
Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality.
This magnificent butterfly finds a little heap of dirt and sits still on it; but man will never on his heap of mud keep still.
It is not the clear-sighted who rule the world. Great achievements are accomplished in a blessed, warm fog.
In order to move others deeply we must deliberately allow ourselves to be carried away beyond the bounds of our normal sensibility.
I take it that what all men are really after is some form or perhaps only some formula of peace.
Facing it, always facing it, that's the way to get through. Face it.
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