It is the mind which creates the world around us, and even though we stand side by side in the same meadow, my eyes will never see what is beheld by yours, my heart will...

Money is made at Christmas out of holly and mistletoe, but who save the vendors would greatly care if no green branch were procurable? One symbol, indeed, has obscured all others–the minted round of metal....

A womanly occupation means, practically, an occupation that a man disdains.

Money is time. With money I buy for cheerful use the hours which otherwise would not in any sense be mine; nay, which would make me their miserable bondsman.

Nowhere is the English genius of domesticity more notably evident than in the festival of afternoon tea. The […] chink of cups and the saucers tunes the mind to happy repose.

I know every book of mine by its smell, and I have but to put my nosebetween the pages to be reminded of all sorts of things.

Life is a huge farce, and the advantage of possessing a sense of humour is that it enables one to defy fate with mocking laughter.

He liked to feel the soft little hand clasping his own fingers, so big and coarse in comparison, and happily so strong. For in the child’s weakness he felt an infinite pathos; a being so...

Life, I fancy, would very often be insupportable, but for the luxury of self-compassion.

That is one of the bitter curses of poverty; it leaves no right to be generous.

Honest Winter, snow-clad, and with the frosted beard, I can welcome not uncordially; But that long deferment of the calendar’s promise, that weeping gloom of March and April, that bitter blast outraging the honour of...

The earning of money should be a means to an end; for more than thirty years–I began to support myself at sixteen–I had to regard it as the end itself.

Well, I wasn’t going to abuse him. I was only going to ask: Is there any quality which distinguishes his work from that of twenty struggling writers one could name? Of course not. He’s a...

But just understand the difference between a man like Reardon and a man like me. He is the old type of unpractical artist; I am the literary man of 1882. He won’t make concessions, or...

I don’t advise. You mutn’t give any weight to what I say, except in so far as your own judgment approves it.

For it is the mind which creates the world about us, and, even though we stand side by side in the same meadow, my eyes will never see what is beheld by yours, my heart...

It is familiarity with life that makes time speed quickly. When every day is a step in the unknown, as for children, the days are long with gathering of experience . . .