She saw every personal religion as a pair of intersecting circles. . . . Probably perfection is reached when the area of the two outer crescents, added together, is exactly equal to that of the leaf-shaped piece in the middle. On paper there must be some neat mathematical formula for arriving at this; in life, none.

Punctuality is the thief of adventure.

Words were the only net to catch a mood, the only sure weapon against oblivion.

Constructive destruction is one of the most delightful employments in the world, and in civilized life the opportunities for it are only too rare.

Not that she didn't enjoy the holidays: but she always felt-and it was, perhaps, the measure of her peculiar happiness-a little relieved when they were over. Her normal life pleased her so well that she was half afraid to step out of its frame in case one day she should find herself unable to get back.

It seemed to her sometimes that the most important thing about marriage was not a home or children or a remedy against sin, but simply there being always an eye to catch.

In childhood the daylight always fails too soon - except when there are going to be fireworks.