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 came into the world two months too soon, I was in such a hurry.

Dostoevsky preaches the morality of the pariah, the morality of the slave.

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

It was jolly in the country. A cow and little pigs to play with and milk warm from the cow.

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

My father, though, could run very much faster. It was impossible to compete with him on the grass. But it was astonishing how slow old people were. Some of them could not run up a hill and called it trying to climb stairs.