He thought that it was loneliness which he was trying to escape and not himself. But the street ran on: catlike$$$ one place was the same as another to him. But in none of them could he be quiet. But the street ran on in its moods and phases$$$ always empty: he might have seen himself as in numberless avatars$$$ in silence$$$ doomed with motion$$$ driven by the courage of flagged and spurred despair; by the despair of courage whose opportunities had to be flagged and spurred.

He had a word$$$ too. Love$$$ he called it. But I had been used to words for a long time. I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came$$$ you wouldn't need a word for that any more than for pride or fear....One day I was talking to Cora. She prayed for me because she believed I was blind to sin$$$ wanting me to kneel and pray too$$$ because people to whom sin is just a matter of words$$$ to them salvation is just words too.

There is only one Christ$$$ Jesus$$$ one faith. All else is a dispute over trifles.

Those who glitter with the glory of the hummingbird meaning death.

We must be still and still moving<br>Into another intensity<br>For a further union...

What is that noise?

There are evil neighborhoods of noise and evil neighborhoods of silence$$$ and Eeldrop and Appleplex preferred the latter$$$ as being the more evil.

The difference between the present and the past is that the conscious present is an awareness of the past in a way and to an extent which the past's awareness of itself cannot show.

We returned to our palaces$$$ these Kingdoms$$$ but no longer at ease here in the old dispensation$$$ with an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.

O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter<br>And on her daughter<br>They wash their feet in soda water.