As we grow older, the memories of early life brighten, those of maturity and senescence grow dim and confused.

I was cured all right.

Art is rare and sacred and hard work, and there ought to be a wall of fire around it.

As a chamber hung round about with looking-glasses represents the face upon every turn, thus all the world doth the mercy and the bounty of God; though that be visible, yet it discovers an invisible God and his invisible properties.

Colonialism. The enforced spread of the rule of reason. But who is going to spread it among the colonizers?

What's it going to be then, eh?

I mean, there's little enough in this life, really, and you only find it worth living for the odd moments, and if you think you're going to have those odd moments again, then it makes life wonderful and have a meaning.