Mr. Russell waved his right hand towards great cliffs like the towers of kings behind the village.

“This is the place,” he said.

If I have dared to surrender some imitation of splendour,
Something I knew that was tender, something I loved that was brave,
If in my singing I shewed songs that I heard on my road,
Were they not debts that I owed rather than gifts that I gave?

If certain hours on their climb up the long ladder of time
Turned my confusion to rhyme, drove me to dare an attempt,
If by fair chance I might seem sometimes abreast of my theme,
Was I translating a dream?  Was it a dream that you dreamt?

High and miraculous skies bless and astonish my eyes;
All my dead secrets arise, all my dead stories come true. 
Here is the Gate to the Sea.  Once you unlocked it for me;
Now, since you gave me the key, shall I unlock it for you?

Man ought to feel humble when he reflects upon the fact that he can survive, and even thrive on, any distress except distress of the body.  God can wither his soul, and still he lives.  Grief can swallow his heart, and still he lives.  But his stomach can kill him.

“All is apparently over between me and Peace,” thought Jay.  “But there must be something to take the place of Peace.”

There is only one thing that can adequately usurp the place of Peace.  But its name did not occur to Jay.

She did not know what had happened to her.  She felt constantly a little mad.  Irresponsible wants clamoured in her breast from morning till night, and all night the company of her Secret Friend was more glorious than ever.  She ran to her world as you perhaps run to church, yet even there she felt expectant.

When a tall tough thundercloud bends across the sky I watch for the first flash, and listen for the first roar, and in my heart stillness seems impossible and at the same time imperative.

So Jay waited, feeling all the time that she could not wait another minute.

You shall not hear whence comes my fear. 
You shall not know the name of it. 
But out of strife it came to life,
And only striving came of it. 
Though for its sake my heart may break,
Yet worse would I endure for it. 
This thing shall be a God to me,
I will not seek a cure for it.

She thought a good deal about Mr. Russell.  I am sure that he would have laughed painfully could he have seen the picture of himself that remained with the ’bus-conductor.  The picture made him thinner, and his eyes more intelligent, and the line of his mouth happier, but it did not make him look younger, because Jay liked him to be Older and Wiser.  He never came into the Secret World; several times she tried to drag him thither, but always at the critical moment he got left outside.  Yet I cannot say that in her Secret World she missed him; the point of the bubble enchantment is that there is nothing lacking in it.