Grown people everywhere are always likely to cling to the religion they were brought up in.

Death is the starlit strip between the companionship of yesterday and the reunion of tomorrow.

You cannot have a theory without principles. Principles is another name for prejudices.

I must have a prodigious quantity of mind; it takes me as much as a week sometimes to make it up.

I haven't a particle of confidence in a man who has no redeeming petty vices whatsoever.

But we are all insane, anyway. Note the mountain-climbers.

Narrative should flow as flows the brook down through the hills and the leafy woodlands...a brook that never goes straight for a minute, but goes and goes briskly, sometimes ungrammatically, and sometimes fetching a horseshoe of ¾ of a mile around and at the end of the circuit flowing within a yard of the path that it traversed an hour before; but always going and always following at least one law, always loyal to that law, the law of narrative, which has no law. Nothing to do but make the trip; the how of it is not important, so that the trip is made.