Odd how the creative power at once brings the whole universe to order.

There are no teachers, saints, prophets, good people, but the artists.

She began framing the words of her telegram into a senseless singsong; so that several park keepers looked at her with suspicion and were only brought to a favourable opinion of her sanity by noticing the pearl necklace which she wore.

Who shall measure the hat and violence of the poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's body?

To be nothing - is that not, after all, the most satisfactory fact in the whole world?

Death is woven in with the violets,” said Louis. “Death and again death.”)

...solitary like a pool at evening, far distant, seen from a train window, vanishing so quickly that the pool, pale in the evening, is scarcely robbed of its solitude, though once seen. *** Here sitting on the world, she thought, for she could not shake herself free from the sense that everything this morning was happening for the first time, perhaps for the last time, as a traveller, even though he is half asleep, knows, looking out of the train window, that he must look now, for he will never see that town, or that mule-cart, or that woman at work in the fields, again.