Surely the only sound foundation for a civilization is a sound state of mind.

Human relations are impossible. When they are real they are uncomfortable, and when they are comfortable they are unreal. It was for the journey into solitude that the human soul was created.

There is much good luck in the world, but it is luck. We are none of us safe. We are children, playing or quarrelling on the line.

Those who search for truth are too conscious of the maze to be hard on others...

There was something better in life than this rub­bish, if only he could get to it—love—nobility—big spaces where passion clasped peace, spaces no science could reach, but they existed for ever, full of woods some of them, and arched with majestic sky and a friend. . .

I have almost completed a long novel, but it is unpublishable until my death and England's.

There's never any great risk as long as you have money.