“We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.”

“We must remember that what a writer does to people is not necessarily what he intends to do. It may be only what people are capable of having done to them.”

“We must not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we began and to know the place for the first time.”

“The dripping blood our only drink,The bloody flesh our only food:In spite of which we like to thinkThat we are sound, substantial flesh and blood--Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.”

“The awful daring of a moment's surrender which an age of prudence can never retract.by this, and only this, we have existed.”

“We do not pass through the same door twiceOr return to the door through which we did not pass”

“What have we given?My friend, blood shaking my heartThe awful daring of a moment's surrenderWhich an age of prudence can never retractBy this, and this only, we have existed.”