A sensation is the feeling of an external stimulus or an internal condition.

By mind I mean the totality of perceptions, memories and ideas in an organism.

Time, subjectively, is the conscious sequence of perceptions.

Space, subjectively, is the coexistence of perceptions — perceiving two objects at once.

Life is that which can hold a purpose for three thousand years and never yield. The individual fails, but life succeeds. The individual is foolish, but life holds in its blood and seed the wisdom of generations. The individual dies, but life, tireless and undiscourageble, goes on, wondering, longing, planning, trying, mounting, longing.

Here and everywhere is the struggle for existence, life inextricably enmeshed with war. All life living at the expense of life, every organism eating other organisms forever.

A man is as old as his arteries, and as young as his ideas.

She is a woman now, and not an idle girl, not a domestic ornament or a sexual convenience anymore.

As we find a place in the economic world the rebellion of youth subsides; we disapprove of earthquakes when our feet are on the earth. We forget then the radicalism then in a gentle liberalism — which is radicalism softened with the consciousness of a bank account.

Middle age begins with marriage; for then work and responsibility replace carefree play, passion surrenders to the limitations of social order, and poetry yields to prose.