When I cannot see words curling like rings of smoke round me I am in darkness—I am nothing.

Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.

In people's eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment in June.

But he could not taste, he could not feel. In the teashop among the tables and the chattering waiters the appalling fear came over him- he could not feel. He could reason; he could read, Dante for example, quite easily…he could add up his bill; his brain was perfect; it must be the fault of the world then- that he could not feel.

I will dream today; for I must unscrew my head somehow.

Those comfortably padded lunatic asylums which are known, euphemistically, as the stately homes of England.

Boredom is the legitimate kingdom of the philanthropic.