Upon the demon-ridden pilgrimage of human life, what next I wonder.
Every book is the wreck of a perfect idea.
The very madness of the scheme protects it.
Our destiny can be examined, but it cannot be justified or totally explained. We are simply here.
The priesthood is a marriage. People often start by falling in love, and they go on for years without realizing that love must change into some other love which is so unlike it that it can hardly be recognized as love at all.
We are such inward secret creatures, that inwardness is the most amazing thing about us, even more amazing than our reason.