Цитаты из книги Cold Hand in Mine

«Мы не можем умереть только потому, что нам этого хочется…»

«Тот, кто признает существование нескольких равноправных истин, лишает себя возможности опереться на одну из них и, следовательно, утрачивает способность обрести покой.»

«Он превратился в ходячую раковину, в которой эхом звучал лепет, производимый окружающим миром.»

There are no beautiful clocks. Everything to do with time is hideous.

Horrors often come in pairs.

    "Because, Mrs Hughes, your whole life has been a quest for perfection. You have always been concerned only with perfection, and as in this world there is no perfection, you are sad. Sadness can be a very special — shall I say, concession?"

There's so much to be said for religion in general. It's just that it's no good for a marriage when one of the parties enters a whole world that the other cannot share.

More secrets are improperly disclosed from boredom than from any other motive; and more intimacies imparted, with relief resulting, or otherwise.

That, I fear, is what Miss Gisbourne would call one of my overloaded sentences, but overloaded sentences can be the reflection, I am sure, of overloaded spirits, and even be their only relief and outlet!

We do not die merely because we want to.

Unaccustomed cheapness is something that takes much explanation in the world around us.

Conventions are, indeed, all that shield us from the shivering void, though often they do so but poorly and desperately.

Когда человек мертв, как мертв был Эльмо, для него не бывает идей больших и малых, истинных или ложных, оригинальных или тривиальных; одни идеи раздражают, другие приносят успокоение, и в этом состоит единственное различие между ними.

As we acquire weight in the world, we lose it within ourselves. Maturity is always in part a matter of emptying and contracting.

He tried to smile, to show he had a sense of humour which could help him to cope with tasteless questions.

    The survival of the lost beloved being so incomparably more afflicting than his or her death, the bereaved is the more likely to vary bitter grief with occasional episodes of hysterical elation, as the dying man, isolated amid the Polar or Himalayan snows, has quarter hours of almost peaceful confidence that of course he will emerge, even believing that he sees how.

Happy, happy Elvira, renewed, strengthened, and made lovelier than ever by just a little suffering;

I have noticed several times that it is to beginners that strange things happen, and often, I think, to beginners only.