A book may be compared to your neighbor: if it be good, it cannot last too long; if bad, you cannot get rid of it too early.

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

Store up reservoirs of calm and content and draw on them at later moments when the source isn't there, but the need is very great.

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.

For Cambridge people rarely smile, Being urban, squat, and packed with guile.

Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?