There is an ascendant feeling among the people that all achievement should be measured in human happiness.

Men command fewer words than they have ideas to express$$$ and language$$$ as Jean Paul said$$$ is a dictionary of faded metaphors.

One expected growth$$$ change; without it$$$ the world was less$$$ the well of inspiration dried up$$$ the muses fled.

The more she tried to recapture the impulse that had set her wanting to put pen to paper$$$ the less it seemed to have ever existed in the first place.

Why did men worship in churches$$$ locking themselves away in the dark$$$ when the world lay beyond its doors in all its real glory?

I am nothing$$$ truth is everything.

Every man's happiness is his own responsibility.

The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.

My father taught me to work$$$ but not to love it. I never did like to work$$$ and I don't deny it. I'd rather read$$$ tell stories$$$ crack jokes$$$ talk$$$ laugh -- anything but work.

I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life.