Friendship is in the end no more than: " . . . a lie which seeks to make us believe that we are not irremediably alone."

Most of our faculties lie dormant because they can rely upon Habit, which knows what there is to be done and has no need of their services.

The highest praise of God consists in the denial of him by the atheist who finds creation so perfect that it can dispense with a creator.

There are mountainous, arduous days, up which one takes an infinite time to climb, and downward-sloping days which one can descend at full tilt, singing as one goes.

Perhaps the immobility of the things that surround us is forced upon them by our conviction that they are themselves, and not anything else, and by the immobility of our conceptions of them.

Our desires cut across one another, and in this confused existence it is rare for happiness to coincide with the desire that clamoured for it.

In theory one is aware that the earth revolves, but in practice one does not perceive it, the ground upon which one treads seems not to move, and one can live undisturbed. So it is with Time in one's life.