New things are always ugly.

Art, it seems to me, should simplify.

When the eyes of the flesh are shut, the eyes of the spirit are open.

What if - what if Life itself were the sweetheart?

I wanted to walk straight on through the red grass and over the edge of the world, which could not be very far away. The light and air abot me told me that the world ended here: only the ground and sun and sky were left, and if one went a little farther there would only be sun and sky, and one would float off into them, like the tawny hawks which sailed over our heads making slow shadows on the grass.

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.

Too much detail is apt, like any other form of extravagance, to become slightly vulgar.