Art and religion (they are the same thing, in the end, of course) have given man the only happiness he has ever had.

It is cremated youth. It is all yours--no one gave it to you.

The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don't realize it. You really are a part of me. In the course of twenty crowded years one parts with many illusions... I did not wish to lose the early ones. Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen again.

The trees and shrubbery seemed well-groomed and social, like pleasant people.

The emptiness was intense, like the stillness in a great factory when the machinery stops running.

That is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great.

When kindness has left people, even for a few moments, we become afraid of them as if their reason had left them. When it has left a place where we have always found it, it is like shipwreck; we drop from security into something malevolent and bottomless.