With my cheek leant upon the window pane I like to fancy that I am pressing as closely as can be upon the massy wall of time, which is forever lifting and pulling and letting fresh spaces of life in upon us. May it be mine to taste the moment before it has spread itself over the rest of the world! Let me taste the newest and the freshest.

Our friends - how distant, how mute, how seldom visited and little known. And I, too, am dim to my friends and unknown; a phantom, sometimes seen, often not. Life is a dream surely.

Now, aged 50, I'm just poised to shoot forth quite free straight and undeflected my bolts whatever they are.

Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.

Often on a wet day I begin counting up; what I've read; what I haven't read.

Illusions are to the soul what atmosphere is to the earth.

You cannot cross the narrow bridge of art carrying all its tools in your hands. Some you must leave behind.