Death is like the setting of the sun. The sun never sets; life never ceases. ... we think the sun sets, and it never ceases shining; we think our friends die, and they never cease living.

It is only in sorrow bad weather masters us; in joy we face the storm and defy it.

Human relations are built on feeling, not on reason or knowledge. And feeling is not an exact science; like all spiritual qualities, it has the vagueness of greatness about it.

Kindness is always fashionable.

It is always the simple that produces the marvelous.

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

The great difference between voyages rests not with the ships, but with the people you meet on them.

Time is a very precious gift- so precious that it is only given to us moment by moment.

All changes are more or less tinged with melancholy, for what we are leaving behind is part of ourselves.

Forethought spares afterthought.

Mediocrity is always in a rush; but whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing with consideration. For genius is nothing more nor less than doing well what anyone can do badly.

I thought the worst of everyone.

You hate me because deep down you want to be me

I always thought about you. From the night I took you home. I never really stopped thinking about you.

Ultimate truth, if there be such a thing, demands the concert of many voices.

Hmm. Petty? Yes. Ineffectual? Yes. Infuriating and off-putting? Yes. Counterproductive? Yes. It's got to be a product of the French Foreign Ministry.

If you remain calm in the midst of great chaos, it is the surest guarantee the it will eventually subside

Religion isn’t about believing things. It's ethical alchemy. It’s about behaving in a way that changes you, that gives you intimations of holiness and sacredness.

My nervous system is enfeebled, only work in oils can sustain me.

As for borrowing Mr. Whistler's ideas about art, the only thoroughly original ideas I have heard him express have had reference to his own superiority as a painter over painters greater than himself.

Superstition, like true love, needs time to grow and reflect upon itself.