The brutalities of progress are called revolutions. When they are over we realize this: that the human race has been roughly handled, but that it has advanced.
Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings.
What a grand thing, to be loved! What a grander thing still, to love!
Son, brother, father, lover, friend. There is room in the heart for all the affections, as there is room in heaven for all the stars.
The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved.
When dictatorship is a fact, revolution becomes a right.
