A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night$$$ and in between he does what he wants to do.

To save a man and thereby to spare a father's agony and a mother's feelings is not to do a noble deed$$$ it is but an act of humanity.

Joy to hearts which have suffered long is like the dew on the ground after a long drought; both the heart and the ground absorb that beneficent moisture falling on them$$$ and nothing is outwardly apparant.

Pure love and suspicion cannot dwell together: at the door where the latter enters$$$ the former makes its exit.

A person who doubts himself is like a man who would enlist in the ranks of his enemies and bear arms against himself.

Sometimes one has suffered enough to have the right to never say: I am too happy.

And yet this very singleness of vision and thorough one-ness with his age is a mark of the successful man. It is as though Nature must needs make men narrow in order to give them force.

Ignorance is a cure for nothing.

I always notice flowers.

And the earth died screaming$$$ while I lay dreaming...