A wind sprang high in the west, like a wave of unreasonable happiness,
and tore eastward across England, trailing with it the frosty scent of
forests and the cold intoxication of the sea. In a million holes and
corners it refreshed a man like a flagon, and astonished him like a
blow...everywhere it bore drama into undramatic lives, and carried
the trump of crisis across the world. Many a harassed mother in a mean
backyard had looked at five dwarvish shirts on the clothes-line as at some
small, sick tragedy; it was as if she had hanged her five children. The wind
came, and they were full and kicking as if five fat imps had sprung into them;
and far down in her suppressed subconscious she half-remembered those
coarse comedies of her fathers when the elves still dwelt in the homes of men...

...he had somehow made the great stride from babyhood to manhood,
and missed that crisis in youth when most of us grow old...

...the great American virtue of simplicity...

...for a woman's clothes never suit her so well as when they seem
to suit her by accident...

This is the real truth, in the saying that second thoughts are best.
Animals have no second thoughts; man alone is able to see his own
thought double, as a drunkard sees a lamp-post; man alone is able
to see his own thought upside down as one sees a house in a puddle.
This duplication of mentality, as in a mirror, is (we repeat) the inmost
thing of human philosophy. There is a mystical, even a monstrous truth,
in the statement that two heads are better than one, but they ought both
to grow on the same body.

Every revolution, like a repentance, is a return.

We shall have gone deeper than the deeps of heaven and grown older
than the oldest angels before we feel, even in its first faint vibration,
the everlasting violence of that double passion with which
God hates and loves the world.