To ride; to dance; she had adored all that. Or going long walks in the country, talking, about books, what to do with one’s life, for young people were amazingly priggish—oh, the things one had said!

One of the liveliest scenes of the performance was the evening, last winter, on which I became aware that one of my compatriots – an American, my good friend Alfred Bonus – was engaged in a controversy somewhat acrimonious, on a literary subject, with Herman Heidenmauer, the young composer who had been playing to us divinely a short time before and whom I thought of neither as a disputant nor as an Englishman.

The debate over whether or not there are sets, or numbers, or other abstracta, shouldn’t be pursued by trying to work out whether talk of such things is paraphrasable away into a nominalistic language[…].

A deep melancholy took possession of him, and gave a dark tinge to all his views of human nature.