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.

His eyes were bright, and, indeed, he scarcely knew whether they held dreams or realities...and in five minutes she had filled the shell of the old dream with the flesh of life.

Fatigue is the safest sleeping draught.

When the shriveled skin of the ordinary is stuffed out with meaning, it satisfies the senses amazingly.

Intimacy is a difficult art.

Does Nature supplement what man advanced? Or does she complete what he began?

Life stand still here.