Chess Is A Forcing House

Railway Termini Are Our Gates To The Glorious And The Unknown. Through Them We Pass Out Into Adventure And Sunshine, To Them, Alas! We Return.

Outside The Arch, Always There Seemed Another Arch. And Beyond The Remotest Echo, A Silence.

Reformers Who Are Obsessed With Purity And Cannot See That Their Obsession Is Impure.

Only Connect The Prose And The Passion, And Both Will Be Exalted, And Human Love Will Be Seen At Its Highest. Live In Fragments No Longer

At Times Our Need For A Sympathetic Gesture Is So Great That We Care Not What Exactly It Signifies Or How Much We May Have To Pay For It Afterwards.