“one cannot find peace in work or in pleasure, in the world or in a convent, but only in one's soul.”

― W. Somerset Maugham, The Painted Veil

topic:self peace

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“Love, she thought, must come suddenly, with great outbursts and lightnings—a hurricane of the skies, which falls upon life, revolutionises it, roots up the will like a leaf, and sweeps the whole heart into the abyss.”

― Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

“Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger, portion of truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.”

― Edgar Allan Poe, The Mystery of Marie Rogêt

“One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual. There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still. The marks of suffering are...”

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

“For the unity of freedom has never relied on uniformity of opinion.”

― John F. Kennedy, State of the Union Address

“He needed his solitude at times, but he wasn't a hermit. He did a lot of socializing. Sometimes I think it was like he was storing up company for the times when he knew nobody would be around.”

― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

“it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear.”

― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“All have their worth . . . and each contributes to the worth of the others.”

― J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

“Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime Rot and consume themselves in little time.”

― William Shakespeare, Venus and Adonis

“why so often the coarse appropriates the finer thus, the wrong man the woman, the wrong woman the man, many thousand years of analytical philosophy have failed to explain to our sense of order.”

― Thomas Hardy, Tess of the d'Urbervilles

“And yet I have had the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire—a fire, however, inseparable in its nature from myself, quickening nothing, lighting...”

― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

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