It is impossible to design a system so perfect that no one needs to be good.

Hungry Hatred, will not strive against intelligence self-interest.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take, towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.

My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.

Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.

If all time is eternally present, all time is unredeemable

The end is where we start from.