It Is Only In The Heart That

To A Thrifty Theologian, Bent On Redemption With Economy, There Are Few Points Of Ethics Too Fine-spun For Splitting.

I Have Written Chiefly Because, Though I Have Often Dreaded The Necessity, I Have Found It More Painful, In The End, Not To Write.

What Was Time Itself But The Bloom, The Sheath Enfolding Experience? Within Time, And With Time Alone, There Was Life - The Gleam, The Quiver, The Heartbeat, The Immeasurable Joy And Anguish Of Being.

[reformers] Might Be Classified As A Distinct Species Having Eyes In The Back Of Their Heads.

The Great Novels Have Marched With The Years. They Are The Contemporaries Of Time.