Organized Christianity has probably done more to retard the ideals that were its founder's than any other agency in the world.

Youth, however, can afford to enjoy even its melancholy; for the ultimate fact of which that melancholy is a prophecy is a long way off.

We also maintain - again with perfect truth - that mystery is more than half of beauty, the element of strangeness that stirs the senses through the imagination.

Wild oats will get sown some time, and one of the arts of life is to sow them at the right time.

The beauty we love is very silent. It smiles softly to itself, but never speaks.

All roads indeed lead to Rome, but theirs also is a more mystical destination, some bourne of which no traveller knows the name, some city, they all seem to hint, even more eternal.

It is the fine excesses of life that make it worth living.