There is only one difference between a long life and a good dinner: that, in the dinner, the sweets come last.
There is no foreign land; it is the traveller only that is foreign, and now and again, by a flash of recollection, lights up the contrasts of the earth.
There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy. By being happy, we sow anonymous benefits upon the world.
There is certainly some chill and arid knowledge to be found upon the summits of formal and laborious science; but it is all round about you, and for the trouble of looking, that you will acquire the warm and palpitating facts of life.
There is an idea abroad among moral people that they should make their neighbours good. One person I have to make good: myself. But my duty to my neighbour is much more nearly expressed by saying that I have to make him happy – if I may.
There is a strong feeling in favour of cowardly and prudential proverbs.
There is a fellowship more quiet even than solitude, and which, rightly understood, is solitude made perfect.
There are two things that men should never weary of, goodness and humility; we get none too much of them in this rough world and among cold, proud people.
There are double words for everything: the word that swells, the word that belittles.
The world is full of a number of things, I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.
The world has no room for cowards.
The web, then, or the pattern: a web at once sensuous and logical, an elegant and pregnant texture: that is style, that is the foundation of the art of literature.