It was a pity thoughts always ran the easiest way, like water in old ditches.
As long as I live I shall always be My Self - and no other, Just me.
Now that cleverness was the fashion most people were clever - even perfect fools; and cleverness after all was often only a bore: all head and no body
Look thy last on all things lovely, Every hour
God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.
Without imagination of the one kind or of the other, mortal existence is indeed a dreary and prosaic business... Illumined by the imagination, our life, whatever its defeats - is a never-ending unforeseen strangeness and adventure and mystery.