A genuine odyssey is not about piling up experiences. It is a deeply felt, risky, unpredictable tour of the soul.

From plants that wake when others sleep, from timid jasmine buds that keep their odour to themselves all day, but when the sunlight dies away let the delicious secret out to every breeze that roams about.

It may help us, in those times of trouble, to remember that love is not only about relationship, it is also an affair of the soul.

Love doesn't demand perfection, but it does ask you to give yourself with less reserve than you'd prefer.

A friendship that like love is warm; A love like friendship, steady.

This wretched brain gave way, and I became a wreck at random driven, without one glimpse of reason or heaven.

Go where we may, rest where we will, Eternal London haunts us still.