The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside.

He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: A day of dappled seaborne clouds.

Like the tender fires of stars moments of their life together, that no one knew of or would ever know of, broke upon and illuminated his memory.

What did that mean, to kiss? You put your face up like that to say goodnight and then his mother put her face down. That was to kiss. His mother put her lips on his cheek; her lips were soft and they wetted his cheek; and they made a tiny little noise: kiss. Why did people do that with their two faces?

A wild angel had appeared to him, the angel of mortal youth and beauty, an envoy from the fair courts of life, to throw open before him in an instant of ecstasy the gates of all the ways of error and glory.

He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music.

To discover the mode of life or of art whereby my spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom.