Our accepting what we are must always inhibit our being what we ought to be.

I read and I read; and I was like a medieval king, I had fallen in love with the picture long before I saw the reality.

In essence the Renaissance was simply the green end of one of civilization's hardest winters.

Think. In a minute from now you could be saying, I risked death. I threw for life, and I won life. It is a very wonderful feeling. To have survived.

The dead live." "How do they live?" "By love.

Duty largely consists of pretending that the trivial is critical.

That's the trouble with provincial life. Everyone knows everyone and there is no mystery. No romance.