The spirit is an inward flame; a lamp the world blows upon but never puts out.

His modesty amounts to deformity.

She tells enough white lies to ice a wedding cake.

Although I am not stupid, the mathematical side of my brain is like dumb notes upon a damaged piano.

[On spiritualism:] I always knew the living talked rot, but it's nothing to the rot the dead talk.

I do not say I was ever what I would call "plain," but I have the sort of face that bores me when I see it on other people.

Haunted from my early youth by the transitoriness and pathos of life, I was aware that it is not enough to say "I am doing no harm," I ought to be testing myself daily, and asking myself what I am really achieving.