Where do murderers go, man! Who's to doom, when the judge himself is dragged to the bar?
There are hardly five critics in America; and several of them are asleep.
Art is the objectification of feeling.
It is impossible to talk or to write without apparently throwing oneself helplessly open.
Faith, like a jackal, feeds among the tombs, and even from these dead doubts she gathers her most vital hope.
A smile is the chosen vehicle of all ambiguities.
I am, as I am; whether hideous, or handsome, depends upon who is made judge.
Heaven have mercy on us all - Presbyterians and Pagans alike - for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending.
Old age is always wakeful; as if, the longer linked with life, the less man has to do with aught that looks like death.
Whatever fortune brings, don't be afraid of doing things.
There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes his whole universe for a vast practical joke.
He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it.