The truth was that he died from solitude, the enemy known but to few on this Earth, and whom only the simplest of us are fit to withstand. The brilliant Costaguanaro of the boulevards had died from solitude and want of faith in himself and others.

Efficiency of a practically flawless kind may be reached naturally in the struggle for bread. But there is something beyond - a higher point, a subtle and unmi…

There is no credulity so eager and blind as the credulity of covetousness, which, in its universal extent, measures the moral misery and the intellectual desti…

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 destr…

Singing, 'Here came a mortal, But faithless was she: And alone dwell for ever The kings of the sea.'

Sometimes I worry that I've lost the plot My twitching muscles tease my flippant thoughts I never really dreamed of heaven much Until we put him in the ground.

Never, tho' my mortal summers to such length of years should come As the many-winter'd crow that leads the clanging rookery home.