Droll thing life is -- that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself -- that comes too late -- a crop of inextinguishable regrets.
Like a running blaze on a plain, like a flash of lightning in the clouds. We live in the flicker.
My task, which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel--it is, before all, to make you see.
Few men realize that their life, the very essence of their character, their capabilities and their audacities, are only the expression of their belief in the safety of their surroundings.
I take it that what all men are really after is some form or perhaps only some formula of peace.
All a man can betray is his conscience.
I can't tell if a straw ever saved a drowning man, but I know that a mere glance is enough to make despair pause. For in truth we who are creatures of impulse are creatures of despair.
All ambitions are lawful except those that climb upward on the miseries or credulities of mankind.
Strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others.
What makes mankind tragic is not that they are the victims of nature, it is that they are conscious of it.