Fatigue is the safest sleeping draught.

Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night.

Every face, every shop, bedroom window, public-house, and dark square is a picture feverishly turned--in search of what? It is the same with books. What do we seek through millions of pages?

It is no use trying to sum people up.

When the body escaped mutilation, seldom did the heart go to the grave unscarred.

Indeed there has never been any explanation of the ebb and flow in our veins--of happiness and unhappiness.

I like books whose virtue is all drawn together in a page or two. I like sentences that don't budge though armies cross them.

They say the sky is the same everywhere. Travellers, the shipwrecked, exiles, and the dying draw comfort from the thought[.]

anyone who’s worth anything reads just what he likes, as the mood takes him, and with extravagant enthusiasm.

What's the use trying to read Shakespeare, especially in one of those little paper editions whose pages get ruffled, or stuck together with sea-water?

The voice had an extraordinary sadness. Pure from all body, pure from all passion, going out into the world, solitary, unanswered, breaking against rocks—so it sounded.

We all need something that takes us out of day to day and reminds us that it's all ok."

His voice is like a thunderstorm, and his hands know every secret hidden deep beneath the cool, dark earth.

Even if I'm playing a bad guy, I work hard to make him multi-leveled and interesting.

you wanted saving didn't you?

The power of Christ compels you!

When we choose to follow Christ in faith rather than choosing another path out of fear, we are blessed with a consequence that is consistent with our choice.

We must do right and risk the consequences.

We don't trust anyone who does anything nice. That's just the sad world we live in.

Abigail Adams could become my favorite historical sleuth.

Purity is something that cannot be attained except by piling effort upon effort.