Happiness is a matter of one's most ordinary everyday mode of consciousness being busy and lively and unconcerned with self.

We need a moral philosophy which can speak significantly of Freud and Marx and out of which aesthetic and political views can be generated. We need a moral philosophy in which the concept of love, so rarely mentioned now, can once again be made central.

To lose somebody is to lose not only their person but all those modes and manifestations into which their person has flowed outwards; so that in losing a beloved one may find so many things, pictures, poems, melodies, places lost too: Dante, Avignon, a song of Shakespeare's, the Cornish sea.

On connecting: Where does one person end and another person begin?

Actors are cave dwellers in a rich darkness which they love and hate.

The very madness of the scheme protects it.

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