To enjoy freedom we have to control ourselves.

He lay on his chair with his hands clasped above his paunch not reading, or sleeping, but basking like a creature gorged with existence.

The world wavered and quivered and threatened to burst into flames.

Night had come—night that she loved of all times, night in which the reflections in the dark pool of the mind shine more clearly than by day.

and then he could not see her come into a room without a sense of the flowing of robes, of the flowering of blossoms, of the purple waves of the sea, of all things that are lovely and mutable on the surface but still and passionate in their heart.

Thinking is my fighting.

When she read just now to James, 'and there were numbers of soldiers with kettledrums and trumpets,' and his eyes darkened, she thought, why should they grow up, and lose all that?