“I believe in the devil, in the Powers of Darkness, Lawford, as firmly as I believe he and they are powerless – in the long run. They – what shall we say? - have surrendered their intrinsicality. You can just go through evil, as you can go through a sewer, and come out on the other side. A loathsome process too.”

“As long as I shall liveI shall always beMy Self-and no other,Just Me.”

“As long as I live I shall always be My Self - and no other, Just me.”

“That's why I've just gone on … collecting this particular kind of stuff – what you might call riff-raff. There's not a book here, Lawford, that hasn't at least a glimmer of the real thing in it – just Life, seen through a living eye, and felt. As for literature, and style, and all that gallimaufry, don't fear for them if your author has the ghost of a hint of genius in his making.”

“AwayThere is no sorrowTime heals never;No loss, betrayal,Beyond repair.Balm for the soul, then,Though grave shall severLover from lovedAnd all they share.See the sweet sun shinesThe shower is over;Flowers preen their beauty,The day how fair!Brood not too closelyOn love, on duty;Friends long forgotten May wait you whereLife with death Brings all to an issue;None will long mourn for you,Pray for you, miss you,Your place left vacant,You not there.”

“Lawford had soundlessly stolen a pace or two nearer, and by stopping forward he could, each in turn, scrutinize the little intent company sitting over his story around the lamp at the further end of the table; squatting like little children with their twigs and pins, fishing for wonders on the brink of the unknown.”

“Tell them I came, and no one answered,That I kept my word," he said.Never the least stir made the listeners,Though every word he spakeFell echoing through the shadowiness of the still houseFrom the one man left awake:Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,And the sound of iron on stone,And how the silence surged softly backward,When the plunging hoofs were gone.”