I have almost completed a long novel, but it is unpublishable until my death and England's.

Let us think of people as starting life with an experience they forget and ending it with one which they anticipate but cannot understand.

The story that is a story and sounded so healthy and stood no nonsense cannot sincerely lead to any conclusion but the grave.

Can what they call civilization be right, if people mayn't die in the room where they were born?

Death destroys a man, but the idea of death saves him—that is the best account of it that has been yet given. Squalor and tragedy can beckon to all that is great in us; and strengthen the wings of love.

Here had lived an elder race, to which we look back with disquietude. The country which we visit at week-ends was really a home to it, and the graver sides of life, the deaths, the partings, the yearnings for love, have their deepest expression in the heart of the fields.