Never Say You Know The Last Word

The Image Of The Presence, Whatever It Was, Waiting There For Him To Go -this Image Had Not Yet Been So Concrete For His Nerves As When He Stopped Short Of The Point At Which Certainty Would Have Come To Him. For, With All His Resolution, Or More Exactly With All His Dread, He Did Stop Short - He Hung Back From Really Seeing. The Risk Was Too Great And His Fear Too Definite: It Took At This Moment An Awful Specific Form.

An Englishman's Never So Natural As When He's Holding His Tongue.

I Think I Don't Regret A Single 'excess' Of My Responsive Youth - I Only Regret, In My Chilled Age, Certain Occasions And Possibilities I Didn't Embrace.

One Doesn't Defend One's God: One's God Is In Himself A Defense.

The Story Had Held Us, Round The Fire, Sufficiently Breathless, But Except The Obvious Remark That It Was Gruesome, As, On Christmas Eve In An Old House, A Strange Tale Should Essentially Be . . .