It is strange, is it not, how a person can adore one's soul so much that they adore one's body also?

Under the force of the imagination, nature itself is changed.

A triptych in which the presiding deities are Mother, England and Me.

I can remember picking up weighty tomes on the history of science and the history of philosophy and reading those when I was small.

London' is a gallery of sensation of impressions. It is a history of London in a thematic rather than a chronological sense with chapters of the history of smells, the history of silence, and the history of light. I have described the book as a labyrinth, and in that sense in complements my description of London itself.

It is strange, is it not, how a person can adore one's soul so much that they adore one's body also?

There are certain people who seem doomed to buy certain houses. The house expects them. It waits for them.