Every limit is a beginning as well as an ending.
Duty has a trick of behaving unexpectedly – something like a heavy friend whom we have amiably asked to visit us, and who breaks his leg within our gates.
Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her hand.
Deep unspeakable suffering may well be called a baptism, a regeneration, the initiation into a new state.
Death was not to be a leap; it was to be a long descent under thickening shadows.
Death is the king of this world; ‘t is his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.
Cruelty, like every other vice, requires no motive outside itself – it only requires opportunity.
Consequences are unpitying. Our deeds carry their terrible consequences, quite apart from any fluctuations that went before – consequences that are hardly ever confined to ourselves.
Conscientious people are apt to see their duty in that which is the most painful course.
Conscience is harder than our enemies, knows more, accuses with more nicety.
College mostly makes people like bladders – just good for nothing but t’ hold the stuff as is poured into ’em.
Children demand that their heroes should be fleckless, and easily believe them so.
