Mystery has its own mysteries, and there are gods above gods. We have ours, they have theirs. That is what's known as infinity.
A true poet does not bother to be poetical. Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses.
The actual tragedies of life bear no relation to one's preconceived ideas. In the event, one is always bewildered by their simplicity, their grandeur of design, and by that element of the bizarre which seems inherent in them.
After the writer's death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter.
