I think it [religion] is an art, the greatest one; an extension of the communion all the other arts attempt.
We were restless for ages...After a while I heard an owl hooting and calmed myself by thinking of it flying over the dark fields – and then I remembered it would be pouncing on mice. I love owls, but I wish God had made them vegetarian.
And at last father flung the rug off as if it were hampering him and strode over to the table saying, 'cocoa, cocoa!'-- it might have been the most magnificent drink in the world; which, personally, I think it is.
It's odd how different a house feels when one is alone in it. It makes it easier to think rather private thoughts...
Still, looking through the old volumes was soothing, because thinking of the past made the present seem a little less real.
I know all about the facts of life, and I don't think much of them.
Thinking of death--strange, beautiful, terrible and a long way off--made me feel happier than ever.
My hand is very tired but I want to go on writing. I keep resting and thinking. All day I have been two people - the me imprisoned in yesterday and the me out here on the mound; and now there is a third me trying to get in - the me in what is going to happen next.
I shouldn't think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea.