To think is to be sick.

Our bones ache only while the flesh is on them. Stretch it as thin as the temple flesh of an ailing woman and still it serves to ache the bone and to move the bone about; and in like manner the night is a skin pulled over the head of day that the day may be in a torment. We will find no comfort until the night melts away; until the fury of the night rots out its fire.

I have been loved,' she said, 'by something strange, and it has forgotten me.

Time is a great conference planning our end, and youth is only the past putting a leg forward.

Madness to us means reversion; to such people as Una and Lena it meant progression. Now their uncle had entered into a land beyond them, the land of fancy. For fifty years he had been as they were, silent, hard-working, unimaginative. Then all of a sudden, like a scholar passing his degree, he had gone up into another form.

The truth is how you say it, and to be 'one's self' is the most shocking custom of all.

And must I, perchance, like careful writers, guard myself against the conclusions of my readers?