Youth is stranger than fiction.

I have need to busy my heart with quietude.

Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.

But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, is wetter water, slimier slime! And there (they trust) there swimmeth one who swam ere rivers were begun, immense of fishy form and mind, squamous omnipotent, and kind.

It's all a terrible tragedy. And yet, in it's details, it's great fun. And - apart from the tragedy - I've never felt happier or better in my life than in those days in Belgium.

Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

I know what things are good: friendship and work and conversation. These I shall have.