Every human soul has seen, perhaps before their birth, pure forms such as justice, temperance, beauty and all the great moral qualities which we hold in honour. We are moved towards what is good by the faint memory of these forms, simple and calm and blessed, which we saw once in a pure, clear light, being pure ourselves.

There is a spider called Amaurobius, which lives in a burrow and has its young in the late summer, and then it dies when the frosts begin, and the young spiders live through the cold by eating their mother's dead body. One can't believe that's an accident. I don't know that I imagined God as having thought it all out, but somehow He was connected with the pattern, He was the pattern.

Perhaps when distant people on other planets pick up some wavelength of ours all they hear is a continuous scream.

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

The human soul is not framed for continued proximity, and the result of this enforced neighbourhood is often an appalling loneliness for which the rules of the game forbid assuagement.

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

The theatre is a tragic place, full of endings and partings and heartbreak.