For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

Stand on the highest pavement of the stair- Lean on a garden urn- Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

I suspect that in our loathing of totalitarianism, there is infused a good deal of admiration for its efficiency.

We do not quite say that the new is more valuable because it fits in; but its fitting in is a test of its value - a test, it is true, which can only be slowly and cautiously applied, for we are none of us infallible judges of conformity.

Our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves, and of our visible, sensible world.

The hippopotamus's day Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts; God works in a mysterious way- The Church can sleep and feed at once.

The only way of expressing emotion in the form of art is by finding an "objective correlative"; in other words, a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula for that particular emotion; such that when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked.