What is destructive is impatience, haste, expecting too much too fast.

Though friendship is not quick to burn it is explosive stuff.

What we have not has made us what we are. / ... / What we are not drives us to consummation.

I can understand people simply fleeing the mountainous effort Christmas has become... but there are always a few saving graces and finally they make up for all the bother and distress.

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.

I long for the bulbs to arrive, for the early autumn chores are melancholy, but the planting of bulbs is the work of hope and is always thrilling.

Light is snow sifted / To an abstraction.