I Had Killed A Big Snake. I

The Miracles Of The Church Seem To Me To Rest Not So Much Upon Faces Or Voices Or Healing Power Coming Suddenly Near To Us From Afar Off, But Upon Our Perceptions Being Made Finer, So That For A Moment Our Eyes Can See And Our Ears Can Hear What Is There About Us Always.

People Always Think The Bread Of Another Country Is Better Than Their Own.

The Sky Was A Midnight-blue, Like Warm, Deep, Blue Water, And The Moon Seemed To Lie On It Like A Water-lily, Floating Forward With An Invisible Current.

Give The People A New Word And They Think They Have A New Fact.

For Ever And Anon The Soul Becomes Weary Of The Conventions That Are Not Of It, And With A Single Stroke Shatters The Civilized Lies With Which It Is Unable To Cope, And The Strong Arm Reaches Out And Takes By Force What It Cannot Win By Cunning.