To Comfort Me Is Like The Wrong

When We Are Not Sure, We Are Alive.

One's Life Is More Formed, I Sometimes Think, By Books Than By Human Beings: It Is Out Of Books One Learns About Love And Pain At Second Hand. Even If We Have The Happy Chance To Fall In Love, It Is Because We Have Been Conditioned By What We Have Read, And If I Had Never Known Love At All, Perhaps It Was Because My Father's Library Had Not Contained The Right Books.

Have You Seen A Room From Which Faith Has Gone? Like A Marriage From Which Love Has Gone. And Patience, Patience Everywhere Like A Fog.

Reality In Our Century Is Not Something To Be Faced.

I Can't Talk You In Terms Of Time --your Time And My Time Are Different