No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.

Nothing puzzles me more than time and space; and yet nothing troubles me less, as I never think about them.

Oft in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken.

Shakespeare is one of the last books one should like to give up, perhaps the one just before the Dying Service in a large Prayer book.

We were happier when we were poorer, but we were also younger.

Books think for me. I can read anything which I call a book.

The world meets nobody half way.