It is almost impossible to remember how tragic a place the world is when one is playing golf.

Mystery lies over the sea. Every ship is bound for Thule.

The mirror that Strindberg held up to Nature was a cracked one. It was cracked in a double sense -- it was crazy. It gave back broken images of a world which it made look like the chaos of a lunatic dream.

No man is uninteresting when his hat is blown off and he has to scuttle after it down the street.

W. B. Yeats has created, if not a new world, a new star. He is not a reporter of life as it is, to the extent that Shakespeare or Browning is. One is not quite certain that his kingdom is of the green earth. He is like a man who has seen the earth not directly but in a crystal.

The belief in the possibility of a short decisive war appears to be one of the most ancient and dangerous of human illusions.

There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before.