You live by what you thrill to, and there's the end of it.

And in this passion for understanding her soul lay close to his; she had him all to herself. But he must be made abstract first.

In the ancient recipe, the three antidotes for dullness or boredom are sleep, drink, and travel. It is rather feeble. From sleep you wake up, from drink you become sober, and from travel you come home again. And then where are you? No, the two sovereign remedies for dullness are love or a crusade.

Nobody can have the soul of me. My mother has had, and nobody can have it again. Nobody can come into my very self again, and breathe me like an atmosphere.

There is the unknown and the unknowable which propounds all creation. This we cannot love , we can only accept it as a term of our own limitation and ratification. We can only know that from the unknown, profound desires enter in upon us, and that the fulfilling of these desires is the fulfilling of creation.

Never was an age more sentimental, more devoid of real feeling, more exaggerated in false feeling, than our own.

Don't be on the side of the angels, it's too lowering.