Life Hurrying Past Us And

It Is A Tragic Hour, That Hour When We Are Finally Driven To Reckon With Ourselves, When Every Avenue Of Mental Distraction Has Been Cut Off And Our Own Life And All Its Ineffaceable Failures Closes About Us Like The Walls Of That Old Torture Chamber Of The Inquisition.

The Heart Of Another Is A Dark Forest, Always, No Matter How Close It Has Been To One's Own.

Merely Having Seen The Season Change In A Country Gave One The Sense Of Having Been There For A Long Time.

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.

Some Things Are Best Learned In Calm, Others In Storm.