The damp morning air was pleasant to him, and the gloomy streets through which he passed were agreeable to his state of feeling.

He wished Home might always wear such a dismal veil of dampness, scirocco, and cloud.
A man in a bad humour will go out of his way to be rained upon and blown against by the weather.

We would all like to change our surroundings with our moods, to fill the world with sunshine when we are happy, and with clouds when we have stumbled in the labyrinths of life.

Lovers wish that the whole earth might be one garden, crossed and recrossed by silent moonlit paths; and when love has taken the one and left the other, he who stays behind would have his garden changed to an angry ocean, and the sweet moss banks to storm-beaten rocks, that he may drown in the depths, or be dashed to pieces by the waves, before he has had time to know all that he has lost.
As we grow older, life becomes the expression of a mood, according to the way we have lived.

He who seeks peace will find that with advancing age the peaceful moment, that once came so seldom, returns more readily, and that at last the moments unite to make hours, and the hours to build up days and years.