As we grow older, the world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated of dead and living.

When the whole world is running headlong towards the precipice, one who walks in the opposite direction is looked at as being crazy.

If you haven’t the strength to impose your own terms upon life, then you must accept the terms it offers you.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.

Every experience is a paradox in that it means to be absolute, and yet is relative; in that it somehow always goes beyond itself and yet never escapes itself.

We know too much, and are convinced of too little. Our literature is a substitute for religion, and so is our religion.

I am moved by fancies that are curled, around these images and cling, the notion of some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.