Thinking of death--strange, beautiful, terrible and a long way off--made me feel happier than ever.

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

I suppose the best kind of spring morning is the best weather God has to offer.

He stood staring into the wood for a minute, then said: "What is it about the English countryside — why is the beauty so much more than visual? Why does it touch one so?" He sounded faintly sad. Perhaps he finds beauty saddening — I do myself sometimes. Once when I was quite little I asked father why this was and he explained that it was due to our knowledge of beauty's evanescence, which reminds us that we ourselves shall die. Then he said I was probably too young to understand him; but I understood perfectly.

Cruel blows of fate call for extreme kindness in the family circle.

How can a young man like to wear a beard?

Perhaps if I make myself write I shall find out what is wrong with me.