Money is our madness, our vast collective madness.
You live by what you thrill to, and there's the end of it.
The soul is a very perfect judge of her own motions, if your mind doesn't dictate to her.
It always seemed to me that men wore their beards, like they wear their neckties, for show.
One realm we have never conquered: the pure present.
The Brangwens had lived for generations on the Marsh Farm, in the meadows where the Erewash twisted sluggishly through alder trees, separating Derbyshire from Nottinghamshire.