We re all muddlers. The thing is to see is when one's got to stop muddling.

Real worship involves waiting.

... a less than perfect meddling in the spiritual world can breed monsters for other people.

So we live; a spirit that broods and hovers over the continual death of time, the lost meaning, the unrecaptured moment, the unremembered face, until the final chop that ends all our moments and plunges that spirit back into the void from which it came.

until I have been able to bury my head so deep in dear London that I can forget that I have ever been away I am inconsolable.

True love gallops, it flies, it is the swiftest of all modes of thought, swifter even than hate and fear.

Falling out of love is very enlightening. For a short while you see the world with new eyes.