Even the contemplative life is only an effort, Nora my dear, to hide the body so the feet won’t stick out.

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.

Destiny and history are untidy.

Even the contemplative life is only an effort, Nora my dear, to hide the body so the feet won’t stick out.

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

This head has risen above its hair in a moment of abandon known only to men who have drawn their feet out of their boots to walk awhile in the corridors of the mind.

Youth is cause, effect is age; so with the thickening of the neck we get data.