We're all made of the same kind of stuff, and there's none of us made of stuff that's flawless.

Defeat furnishes good material to the poets and the artists, but none of us care to have the glory of the conquered apply to us.

We all have a fight - some an easy one, and some a big one, and if you have formed the idea that there is a kind of dividing line in the world, and that on the one side is the good, and on the other side the bad, why, all I can say is that you have a wrong notion of things.

I often think of the different ways Goethe and Darwin got at evolution. Goethe had the poetic conception of it all right; Darwin worked it out step by step. Who's ahead? And which has any business scoffing at the other?

I'm not sure I would be a good godmother. I have read about it, and I found that the godmother's position is to take care of the morals of the child. I don't know how good I would be at that.

I can't think of any sorrow in the world that a hot bath wouldn't help, just a little bit.