Time takes the ugliness and horror out of death and turns it into beauty.

If you love people, you take them on trust.

The key to all knowledge comes in words of just one syllable, apparently.... There's only the last page left to write on. I'll fill it with words of just one syllable. I love. I have loved. I will love.

I could hear rain still pouring from the gutters and a thin branch scraping against one of the windows; but the church seemed completely cut off from the restless day outside--just as I felt cut off from the church. I thought: I am a restlessness inside a stillness inside a restlessness.

I shouldn't think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea.

I should rather like to tear these last pages out of the book. Shall I? No-a journal ought not to cheat.

Just to be in love seemed the most blissful luxury I had ever known. The thought came to me that perhaps it is the loving that counts, not the being loved in return -- that perhaps true loving can never know anything but happiness. For a moment I felt that I had discovered a great truth.