One Must Not Only Die Daily, But

Philip Wasn't The Sort Of Man To Make A Friend Of A Woman. He Wanted Devotion. I Gave Him That. I Did, You Know. But I Couldn't Stand Being Made A Fool Of. I Couldn;t Stand Being Put On Probation, Like An Office-boy, To See If I Was Good Enough To Be Condescended To. I Quite Thought He Was Honest When He Said He Didn't Believe In Marriage -- And Then It Turned Out That It Was A Test, To See Whether My Devotion Was Abject Enough. Well, It Wasn't. I Didn't Like Having Matrimony Offered As A Bad-conduct Prize.

There Is, In Fact, A Paradox About Working To Serve The Community, And It Is This: That To Aim Directly At Serving The Community Is To Falsify The Work; The Only Way To Serve The Community Is To Forget The Community And Serve The Work.

. . . The Fellow's Got A Bee In His Bonnet. Thinks God's A Secretion Of The Liver--all Right Once In A Way, But There's No Need To Keep On About It. There's Nothing You Can't Prove If Your Outlook Is Only Sufficiently Limited.

All Conscious Thought Is A Process In Time; So That To Think Consciously About Time Is Like Trying To Use A Foot-rule To Measure Its Own Length.

Very Dangerous Things, Theories.