Happiness is not a matter of events; it depends upon the tides of the mind.
The true color of life is the color of the body, the color of the covered red, the implicit and not explicit red of the living heart and the pulses. It is the modest color of the unpublished blood.
Our fathers valued change for the sake of its results; we value it in the act.
Let a man turn to his own childhood – no further – if he will renew his sense of remoteness, and of the mystery of change.
A child is beset with long traditions. And his infancy is so old, so old, that the mere adding of years in the life to follow will not seem to throw it further back – it is already so far.
If there is a look of human eyes that tells of perpetual loneliness, so there is also the familiar look that is the sign of perpetual crowds.
Spirit of place! It is for this we travel, to surprise its subtlety; and where it is a strong and dominant angel, that place, seen once, abides entire in the memory with all its own accidents, its habits, its breath, its name.
The sense of humor has other things to do than to make itself conspicuous in the act of laughter.
It is easy to replace man, and it will take no great time, when Nature has lapsed, to replace Nature.
The true colour of life is the colour of the body, the colour of the covered red, the implicit and not explicit red of the living heart and the pulses. It is the modest colour of the unpublished blood.