When that strange race nears the dust and is condemned as untouchable, then nature remembers the physical perfection that she accomplished elsewhere, and throws out a god-not many, but one here and there, to prove to society how little its categories impress her.

One's favorite book is as elusive as one's favorite pudding.

She loved him absolutely, perhaps for half an hour.

If only the sense of actuality can be lulled-and it sleeps for ever in most historians-there is no passion that cannot be gratified in the past.

Unless we remember we cannot understand.

I never could get on with representative individuals but people who existed on their own account and with whom it might therefore be possible to be friends.

So, two cheers for Democracy: one because it admits variety and two because it permits criticism.