But what do we know of the heart nearest to our own? What do we know of our own heart?

It is little men know of women; their smiles and their tears alike are seldom what they seem.

The fate of love is that it always seems too little or too much.

Kindness is always fashionable, and always welcome.

Events that are predestined require but little management. They manage themselves. They slip into place while we sleep, and suddenly we are aware that the thing we fear to attempt, is already accomplished.

With renunciation life begins.