The wicked envy and hate; it is their way of admiring.
She went back down to the garden, feeling like a queen, hearing the birds sing—this was in winter—seeing the sky all golden, the sun in the trees, flowers among the shrubs, bewildered, wild, giddy with inexpressible rapture.
Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved.
It seems to me that I am shooting a flower.
Thought is the labour of the intellect, reverie is its pleasure. To replace thought by reverie is to confound poison with nourishment.
Each time he uttered the word ‘Monsieur' in his mild, compassionable voice, the man's face lighted up. The courtesy, to the ex-convict, was like fresh water to a shipwrecked man. Ignominy thirsts for respect.