[ Concluding words of the Barsetshire novels :] To meBarset has been a real county, and its city a real city, and the spires and towers have been before my eyes, and the voices of the people are knownto my ears, and the pavement of the city ways are familiar to my footsteps. . . . I have been induced to wander among them too long by my love of old friendships, and by the sweetness of old faces.

A man’s mind will very generally refuse to make itself up until it be driven and compelled by emergency.

How seldom is it that theories stand the wear and tear of practice!

If men were equal to-morrow and all wore thesame coats, they would wear different coats thenext day.

It is not the prize that can make us happy; it is not even the winning of the prize. . . . [It is] the struggle, the long hot hour of the honest fight. . . . There is no human bliss equal to twelvehours of work with only six hours in which todo it.

Love is like any other luxury. You have no right to it unless you can afford it.

Never think that you’re not good enough yourself. A man should never think that. My belief is that in life people will take you very much at your own reckoning.