We think-although of course, now, we very seldom Clearly think- That the other side of War is Peace.

Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.

I find that I never lose Bach. I don't know why I have always loved him so. Except that he is so pure, so relentless and incorruptible, like a principle of geometry.

Life in itself / Is nothing, / An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. / It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, / April / Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that; but some place set apart for it.

O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!

I am not afraid of lawyers as I used to be. They are lambs in wolves' clothing.