What makes life dreary is the want of motive.
What courage and patience are wanted for every life that aims to produce anything!
There is no private life which has not been determined by a wider public life.
The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.
Our life is determined for us; and it makes the mind very free when we give up wishing, and only think of bearing what is laid upon us, and doing what is given us to do.
Life was so complicated a game that the devices of skill were liable to be defeated at every turn by air-blown chances, incalculable as the descent of thistle-down.
Life was never anything but a perpetual see-saw between gravity and jest.
Life seems to go on without effort, when I am filled with music.
Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.
For “Live and learn,” we should sometimes read “Live and grow stupid.”
