Six months ago I had never been to England, and, certainly, I had never sounded the depths of an English heart. I had known the shallows.

Why can't people have what they want? The things were all there to content everybody; yet everybody has the wrong thing.

He thought he suddenly understood. For the Lincon-shire sergeant-major the word Peace meant that a man could stand up on a hill. For him it meant someone to talk to.

We are all so afraid, we are all so alone, we all so need from the outside the assurance of our own worthiness to exist.

But responsibility hardens the heart. It must.

Higher than the beasts, lower than the angels, stuck in our idiot Eden.

Yes, a war is inevitable. Firstly, there's you fellows who can't be trusted. And then there's the multitude who mean to have bathrooms and white enamel. Millions of them; all over the world. Not merely here. And there aren't enough bathrooms and white enamel in the world to go round.