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

There seemed to be nothing to see; no fences, no creeks or trees, no hills or fields. If there was a road, I could not make it out in the faint starlight. There was nothing but land: not a country at all, but the material out of which countries are made.

Claude Wheeler opened his eyes before the sun was up and vigorously shook his younger brother, who lay in the other half of the same bed.

Let people go on talking as they like, and we will go on living as we think best.

Art, it seems to me, should simplify.

William Tavener never heeded ominous forecasts in the domestic horizon, and he never looked for a storm until it broke.

In a few hours one could cover that incalculable distance; from the winter country and homely neighbours, to the city where the air trembled like a tuning-fork with unimaginable possibilities.