Sublime

A verdict of death by misadventure was returned.

Because the ancient instinct and humour of humanity have always told them, under whatever conventions, that the conventions of complex cities were less really healthy and happy than the customs of the countryside.

As seen by his neighbours, he is as safe as if immured in a fortress; but as seen by himself he may be forever careering through the sky or crashing towards the earth in a flying–ship.

Lady Duff Twysden, a character right out of a very good English novel who had lost her way. Her look was original, her chic was original, and God knows her speech and her capacity for drink were all original.

“If they’re telling Godfrey their secrets,” Perry said, “then they are not telling the Germans. Godfrey will be a conduit to divert their treachery into our own reservoir.” Metaphor really wasn’t his forte.

‘After all that good wine,’ Father Quixote said, ‘we shall sleep well wherever we are.’ ‘I shan’t sleep a wink.’ ‘She is one of your people.’ ‘What on earth do you mean?’ ‘The poor.’ He added quickly, ‘Of course they are my people too.’

Among the young men their friends and neighbours, the belle jeunesse of the Colony, there were many excellent fellows, several devoted swains, and some two or three who enjoyed the reputation of universal charmers and conquerors. But the home-bred arts and the somewhat boisterous gallantry of those honest young colonists were completely eclipsed by