Life Is Not Measured By Its Length,

It Is Vain To Keep A Secret From One Who Has A Right To Know It. It Will Tell Itself.

We Talk Of Choosing Our Friends, But Friends Are Self-elected.

When I Was Praised I Lost My Time, For Instantly I Turned Around To Look At The Work I Had Thought Slightly Of, And That Day I Made Nothing New.

But What Help From These Fineries Or Pedantries? What Help From Thought? Life Is Not Dialectics. We, I Think, In These Times, Have Had Lessons Enough Of The Futility Of Criticism.

Eloquence Must Be Grounded On The Plainest Narrative.