Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory.

A fool has more ideas than a wise man can foresee.

The true peace of God begins at any spot a thousand miles from the nearest land.

Kisses are the remnants of paradise.

Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory, and the truth of every passion wants some pretence to make it live.

The moon had spread over everything a thin layer of silver - over the rank grass, over the mud, upon the wall of matted vegetation standing higher than the wall of a temple, over the great river I could see through a sombre gap glittering, glittering, as it flowed broadly by without a murmur. All this was great, expectant, mute, while the man jabbered about himself.

The vision seemed to enter the house with me-the stretcher, the phantom-bearers, the wild crowd of obedient worshippers, the gloom of the forests, the glitter of the reach between the murky bends, the beat of the drum, regular and muffled like the beating of a heart-the heart of a conquering darkness.