Love, like broken porcelain, should be wept over and buried, for nothing but a miracle will resuscitate it: but who in this world has not for some wild moments thought to recall the irrecoverable with words?

it is a lean employment of time to brood on what might have happened along some other turning.

Your real progressives are never fair: they are never sufficiently neutral.

... it is a matter of civilizing everyone or not being civilized at all: the decay has always come from a partial civilization.

Generalizations, one is told, are dangerous. So is life, for that matter, and it is built up on generalization - from the earliest effort of the adventurer who dared to eat a second berry because the first had not killed him.

Christmas... is not an external event at all, but a piece of one's home that one carries in one's heart.

What I find trying in a country which you do not understand and where you cannot speak, is that you can never be yourself.