Sleep seems to hammer out for me the logical conclusions of my vague days, and offer them to me as dreams.
They say geniuses mostly have great mothers. They mostly have sad fates.
Protestantism came and gave a great blow to the religious and ritualistic rhythm of the year, in human life. Non-conformity almostfinished the deed.... Mankind has got to get back to the rhythm of the cosmos, and the permanence of marriage.
I want the wonder back again, or I shall die.
I cannot get any sense of an enemy - only of a disaster.
We have to hate our immediate predecessors, to get free from their authority.