... for I know I shall be interrupted-- I shall want to be, really, because life is too exciting to sit still for long.

Oh, wise young judge.

Why is summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?

I think it [religion] is an art, the greatest one; an extension of the communion all the other arts attempt.

I found it quite easy to carry on a casual conversation it was as if my real feelings were down fathoms deep in my mind and what we said was just a feathery surface spray.

The one Bach piece I learnt made me feel I was being repeatedly hit on the head with a teaspoon.

Walking down Belmotte was the oddest sensation-- every step took us deeper into the mist until at last it closed over our heads. It was like being drowned in the ghost of water.