A strange fanaticism fills our time: the fanatical hatred of morality, especially of Christian morality.

Certain new theologians dispute original sin, which is the only part of Christian theology which can really be proved.

There should be a burnished tablet let into the ground on the spot where some courageous man first ate Stilton cheese, and survived.

Monotony has nothing to do with a place; monotony, either in its sensation or its infliction, is simply the quality of a person. There are no dreary sights; there are only dreary sight seers.

Comradeship is quite a different thing from friendship. . .

And all over the world, the old literature, the popular literature, is the same. It consists of very dignified sorrow and very undignified fun. Its sad tales are of broken hearts; its happy tales are of broken heads.

Surely we cannot take an open question like the supernatural and shut it with a bang, turning the key of the madhouse on all the mystics of history. You cannot take the region of the unknown and calmly say that, though you know nothing about it, you know all the gates are locked. We do not know enough about the unknown to know that it is unknowable.