If Miss Honeychurch ever takes to live as she plays, it will be very exciting--both for us and for her.

The advance of regret can be so gradual that it is impossible to say "yesterday I was happy, today I am not.

When you come back you will not be you. And I may not be I.

He stretched out his hands as he sang, sadly, because all beauty is sad…The poem had done no ‘good’ to anyone, but it was a passing reminder, a breath from the divine lips of beauty, a nightingale between two worlds of dust. Less explicit than the call to Krishna, it voiced our loneliness nevertheless, our isolation, our need for the Friend who never comes yet is not entirely disproved.

Of course he despised the world as a whole; every thoughtful man should; it is almost a test of refinement.

We are not concerned with the very poor. They are unthinkable, and only to be approached by the statistician or the poet.

I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.