And the seriousness with which the other party takes my words always raises the doubt whether I have taken them seriously enough myself.

When the voice of your friend or the page of your book sinks into democratic equality with the pattern of the wallpaper, the feel of your clothes, your memory of last night, and the noises from the road, you are falling asleep. The highly selective consciousness enjoyed by fully alert men, with all its builded sentiments and consecrated ideals, has as much to be called real as the drowsy chaos, and more.

Whenever you are fed up with life, start writing: ink is the great cure for all human ills, as I have found out long ago.

I think each village was meant to feel pity for its own sick and poor whom it can help and I doubt if it is the duty of any private person to fix his mind on ills which he cannot help. This may even become an escape from the works of charity we really can do to those we know. God may call any one of us to respond to some far away problem or support those who have been so called. But we are finite and he will not call us everywhere or to support every worthy cause. And real needs are not far from us.

Be good, sweet maid, and don't forget that this involves being as clever as you can.

The laws of thought are also the laws of things: of things in the remotest space and the remotest time.

All mortals tend to turn into the thing they are pretending to be. This is elementary