I want to feel myself part of things, of the great drift and swirl: not cut off, missing things, like being sent to bed early as a child, the blinds being drawn while the sun and cheerful voices came through the chink from the garden.

I used to worry about what life was for - now being alive seems sufficient reason.

There seemed to be endless obstacles - it seemed that the root cause of them all was fear.

It's weak and despicable to go on wanting things and not trying to get them.

The growth of understanding follows an ascending spiral rather than a straight line.

by taking notice of those feelings and images that seemed to be in my blood and bones rather than in my head, I had found myself able to behave, not less reasonably, but more so. Apparently it was as much a false extreme to try and live by reason alone, leaving the passions out of count, as to ignore reason and put passion in its place as the guiding force of life.

Sometimes I find that in my happy moments I could not believe that I had ever been miserable.