But I did not find any positive inspiration in my studies until I approached my nineteenth year.

Any feeling that I was enriching my mind from those surrounding me was unfortunately rare with me.

The appalling thing about war is that it kills all love of truth.

A love for humanity came over me, and watered and fertilised the fields of my inner world which had been lying fallow, and this love of humanity vented itself in a vast compassion.

But when I was twelve years old I caught my first strong glimpse of one of the fundamental forces of existence, whose votary I was destined to be for life - namely, Beauty.

I became an ardent, but never a specially good, dancer.

That a literature in our time is living is shown in that way that it debates problems.