Them that die will be the lucky ones!

They say cowardice is infectious; but then argument is, on the other hand, a great emboldener.

But the more he is alone with nature, the greater man and his doings bulk in the consideration of his fellow-men.

Though the coming of the day is still the most inspiriting, yet day's departure, also, and the return of night refresh, renew, and quiet us; and in the pastures of the dusk we stand, like cattle, exulting in the absence of the load.

Wherever a man is, there will be a lie.

It is the worst of all quaint and of all cheap ways of life that they bring us at last to the pinch of some humiliation.

The imagination loves to trifle with what is not.

Sanity itself is a kind of convention.

There is no foreign land; it is the traveller only that is foreign, and now and again, by a flash of recollection, lights up the contrasts of the ear.

This is still the strangest thing in all man's travelling, that he should carry about with him incongruous memories.