I heard the bells on Christmas Day. Their old familiar carols play. And wild and sweet the words repeat. Of peace on earth goodwill to men.

There is much to support the view that it is clothes that wear us, and not we, them; we may make them take the mould of arm or breast, but they mould our hearts, our brains, our tongues to their liking.

There are some people so addicted to exaggeration that they can't tell the truth without lying.

Suffering is by no means a privilege, a sign of nobility, a reminder of God. Suffering is a fierce, bestial thing, commonplace, uncalled for, natural as air. It is intangible; no one can grasp it or fight against it; it dwells in time -- is the same thing as time; if it comes in fits and starts, that is only so as to leave the sufferer more defenseless during the moments that follow, those long moments when one relives the last bout of torture and waits for the next.

In politics... shared hatreds are almost always the basis of friendships.

Criticism should be a casual conversation.

The class distinctions proper to a democratic society are not those of rank or money, still less, as is apt to happen when these are abandoned, of race, but of age.

An honest man is the best thing on the sod; but a mother and her babe is the noblest work of God.

Hatred can be overcome only by love.

We all know that sponges grow in the ocean but I wander how much deeper the ocean would be if that wasn't the case.