After all, what is every man? A horde of ghosts – like a Chinese nest of boxes – oaks that were acorns that were oaks. Death lies behind us, not in front – in our ancestors, back and back until…
Who said, ‘All Time’s delightHath she for narrow bed;Life’s troubled bubble broken’? —That’s what I said.
Science, I am told, is making great strides, experimenting, groping after things which no sane man has ever dreamed of before – without being burned alive for it.
Fancies were all very well for a change, but must be only occasional guests in a world devoted to reality.
God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.
When indeed you positively press your face, so to speak, against the crystalline window of your eyes, your mind is apt to become a perfect vacuum.(“Out Of The Deep”)
It was a pity thoughts always ran the easiest way, like water in old ditches.
Yes, after all, this by now was his customary loneliness: there was little else he desired for the present than the hospitality of the dark.
Poor sleepers should endeavor to compose themselves. Tampering with empty space, stirring up echoes in pitch-black pits of darkness is scarcely sedative.(“Out Of The Deep”)
Thinking is like a fountain. Once it gets going at a certain pressure, well, it almost impossible to turn it off. And, my hat! what odd things come up with the water!(“Out Of The Deep”)
Oh, pity the poor gluttonWhose troubles all beginIn struggling on and on to turnWhat’s out into what’s in.
The time’s gone by for sentiment and all that foolery. Mercy’s all very well but after all it’s justice that clinches the bargain.
Let them enjoy their Eden while they can; though there’s plenty of apples, I fear, on the tree yet, Mr Lawford.
Hi! handsome hunting manFire your little gun.Bang! Now the animalis dead and dumb and done.Nevermore to peep again, creep again, leap again,Eat or sleep or drink again. Oh, what fun!
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.
Once a man strays out of the common herd, he’s more likely to meet wolves in the thickets than angels.
It was to be a day of queer experiences. He had never realized with how many miracles mere everyday life is besieged.
When there hasn’t been anything there, nothing can be said to have vanished from the place where it has not been.(“Out Of The Deep”)
Hi handsome hunting man Fire your little gun Bang! Now the animal Is dead and dumb and done. Nevermore to peep again creep again leap again Eat or sleep or drink again. Oh what fun.
It’s a very odd thing As odd as can be That whatever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T.