Nothing, perhaps, is strange, once you have accepted life itself, the great strange business which includes all lesser strangeness.

We know one another's faults, virtues, catastrophes, mortifications, triumphs, rivalries, desires, and how long we can each hang by our hands to a bar. We have been banded together under pack codes and tribal laws.

Cranks live by theory, not by pure desire. They want votes, peace, nuts, liberty, and spinning-looms not because they love these things, as a child loves jam, but because they think they ought to have them. That is one element which makes the crank.

Love's a disease. But curable.

The great and recurrent question about Abroad is, is it worth the trouble of getting there?

One could do with a longer year - so much to do, so little done, alas.

The manuscript may go forth from the writer to return with a faithfulness passing the faithfulness of the boomerang or the homing pigeon.