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.

Love is not getting, but giving. It is sacrifice. And sacrifice is glorious!

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

Once you assume your right to interfere in other people's problems they become in some ways more of a worry than your own, for with your own you can at least do what you think best, but other people always show such a persistent tendency to do the wrong thing.

Colour is, on the evidence of language alone, very bound up with the feelings.

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.