The war had made a man of him! It had coarsened him and hardened him. There was no other way to look at it. It had made him reach a point at which he would no longer stand unbearable things.

Open the book to page ninety-nine and read, and the quality of the whole will be revealed to you.

It's the quality of harmony, sir. The quality of being in harmony with you own soul. God having given you your own soul you are then in harmony with Heaven.

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

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

I know nothing - nothing in the world - of the hearts of men. I only know that I am alone - horribly alone.

They were simple, earnest people, those early Victorians, and had not yet learnt the trick of avoiding disturbing thoughts and sights.