But the point is, now, at this moment, or any moment, we're only cross-sections of our real selves. What we really are is the whole stretch of ourselves, all our time, and when we come to the end of this life, all those selves, all our time, will be us - the real you, the real me. And then perhaps we'll find ourselves in another time, which is only another kind of dream.

California, that advance post of our civilization, with its huge aircraft factories, TV and film studios, automobile way of life... its flavourless cosmopolitanism, its charlatan philosophies and religions, its lack of anything old and well-tried rooted in tradition and character.

A good holiday is one spent among people whose notions of time are vaguer than yours.

To love to teach is one thing, to love those you teach is another.

Living in an age of advertisement, we are perpetually disillusioned.

To multiply your joy, count your blessings.

Those no-sooner-have-I-touched-the-pillow people are past my comprehension. There is something bovine about them.