To dare to live alone is the rarest courage; since there are many who had rather meet their bitterest enemy in the field, than their own hearts in their closet.
Night, when words fade and things come alive, when the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.
I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd, - "How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude." But grant me still a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whisper - Solitude is sweet.