Extreme Happiness Invites Religion Almost

And At Last Father Flung The Rug Off As If It Were Hampering Him And Strode Over To The Table Saying, 'cocoa, Cocoa!'-- It Might Have Been The Most Magnificent Drink In The World; Which, Personally, I Think It Is.

He Stood Staring Into The Wood For A Minute, Then Said: "what Is It About The English Countryside — Why Is The Beauty So Much More Than Visual? Why Does It Touch One So?" He Sounded Faintly Sad. Perhaps He Finds Beauty Saddening — I Do Myself Sometimes. Once When I Was Quite Little I Asked Father Why This Was And He Explained That It Was Due To Our Knowledge Of Beauty's Evanescence, Which Reminds Us That We Ourselves Shall Die. Then He Said I Was Probably Too Young To Understand Him; But I Understood Perfectly.

People's Clothes Ought To Be Buried With Them.

...i Have Noticed That When Things Happen In One's Imaginings, They Never Happen In One's Life, So I Am Curbing Myself.

My Hand Is Very Tired But I Want To Go On Writing. I Keep Resting And Thinking. All Day I Have Been Two People - The Me Imprisoned In Yesterday And The Me Out Here On The Mound; And Now There Is A Third Me Trying To Get In - The Me In What Is Going To Happen Next.