Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.

For to desire is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as deeply as it was desired.

Nobody knows you. You don't know yourself. And I, who am half in love with you, What am I in love with? My own imaginings?

For God's sake, all of you, say spiteful things about me, then I shall know I mean something to you. Don't say surgaries, or I'm done.

Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.

If it doesn't absorb you, if it isn't any fun, don't do it.

The modern pantheist not only sees the god in everything, he takes photographs of it.