You must try to forget all you have learned,” said the old man. “You must begin to dream. From this time on you must shut your ears to the roaring of the voices.

I had a world, and it slipped away from me. The War blew up more than the bodies of men....It blew ideas away.

Everyone knows of the talking artists. Throughout all of the known history of the world they have gathered in rooms and talked. They talk of art and are passionately,almost feverishly, in earnest about it. They think it matters much more than it does.

People keep on getting married. Evidently hope is eternal in the human breast.

Friends you have, people you love, die and are born again.

There is this thing called life. We live it, not as we intend or wish, but as we are driven on by forces outside and inside ourselves.

In that high place in the darkness the two oddly sensitive human atoms held each other tightly and waited. In the mind of each was the same thought. "I have come to this lonely place and here is this other," was the substance of the thing felt.