You can't think how I depend on you, and when you're not there the colour goes out of my life.

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

There is something about the present which we would not exchange, though we were offered a choice of all past ages to live in.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists; the reality of everything.

The waves broke and spread their waters swiftly over the shore. One after another they massed themselves and fell; the spray tossed itself back with the energy of their fall. The waves were steeped deep-blue save for a pattern of diamond-pointed light on their backs which rippled as the backs of great horses ripple with muscles as they move. The waves fell; withdrew and fell again, like the thud of a great beast stamping.

I see nothing. We may sink and settle on the waves. The sea will drum in my ears. The white petals will be darkened with sea water. They will float for a moment and then sink. Rolling over the waves will shoulder me under. Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me.

Nothing, however, can be more arrogant, though nothing is commoner than to assume that of Gods there is only one, and of religions none but the speaker’s.