We have, of course, long since ceased to think of Nature as the sympathetic mirror of our moods, or to imagine that she has any concern with the temporal affairs of man.

The spiritual element, the really important part of religion, has no concern with Time and Space, temporary mundane laws, or conduct.

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

In their work, then, as in their play, men and women are more and more coming to share with each other as comrades, and really the fun of life seems in no wise diminished as a consequence.

On the contrary, woman is the best equipped fighting machine that ever went to battle.

Perhaps we too seldom reflect how much the life of Nature is one with the life of man, how unimportant or indeed merely seeming, the difference between them.

You can't fake it. Bad writing is a gift.