“It was a pity thoughts always ran the easiest way, like water in old ditches.”

“Oh, pity the poor gluttonWhose troubles all beginIn struggling on and on to turnWhat's out into what's in.”

“Very old are the woods;And the buds that breakOut of the brier's boughs,When March winds wake,So old with their beauty are--Oh, no man knowsThrough what wild centuriesRoves back the rose.”

“In these days of faith-cures, and hypnotism, and telepathy, and subliminalities – why, the simple old world grows very confusing. But rarely, very rarely novel.”

“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.”

“We are *all* we are, and all in a sense we care to dream we are. And for that matter, anything outlandish, bizarre, is a godsend in this rather stodgy life. It is after all just what the old boy said – it's only the impossible that's credible; whatever credible may mean...”