I never read prefaces, and it is not much good writing things just for people to skip. I wonder other authors have never thought of this.

There are brown eyes in the world, after all, as well as blue, and one pair of brown that meant heaven to me as the blue had never done

It is all very wonderful and mysterious, as all life is apt to be if you go a little below the crust, and are not content just to read newspapers and go by the Tube Railway, and buy your clothes ready-made, and think nothing can be true unless it is uninteresting.

I'll plant and water, sow and weed, Till not an inch of earth shows brown, And take a vow of each small seed To grow to greenness and renown: And then some day you'll pass my way, See gold and crimson, bell and star, And catch my garden's soul, and say: "How sweet these cottage gardens are!"

Time and space are only forms of thought.

I think everyone in the world is friends if you can only get them to see you don't want to be un-friends.

Time is, as you are probably aware, merely a convenient fiction. There is no such thing as time.