It seems to me that we do live in two worlds. There is is this physical one, which is coherent, and there is a spiritual one, which to the average man, with his flashes of religious experience, if you like to call them that — that world is very often incoherent. This experience of having two worlds to live in all the time, or… not all the time, occasionally, is a vital one and is what living is like.

Two worlds exist. Maybe it’s always been this way, but I enter them both like I am two people. Above and below. Land and water. Now and then. (p97)

On this narrow planet, we have only the choice between two unknown worlds. One of them tempts us — ah! what a dream, to live in that! — the other stifles us at the first breath.

There are other worlds and rational beings of a different and higher kind. The world in which we live is not the only one in which we shall live or have lived.

We have two lives about us,
Two worlds in which we dwell;
Within us, and without us, Alternate Heaven and Hell:
Without, the somber Real,
Within our hearts of hearts, the beautiful Ideal!

Life complete, is lived in two worlds; the one inside, and the one outside. The first half of our days is spent wholly in the former; the second, if it is what it ought to be, wholly in the latter — till our education is almost finished; theories are only words to us, and church controversy is not of things but of shadows of things. Through all that time life and thought beyond our own experience is but a great game played out by book actors; we do not think, we only think we think, and we have been too busy in our own line to have a notion really of what is beyond it. But while so much of our talk is so unreal, our own selves, our own risings, fallings, aspirings, resolutions, misgivings, these are real enough to us; these are our hidden life, our sanctuary of our own mysteries.

Wandering between two worlds, one dead, The other powerless to be born.

Between two worlds life hovers like a star,
'Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge
How little we know that which we are!
How less we may be!

Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

Our place is somewhere between being and nonbeing — between two fictions.

Because you live in two or three worlds doesn't mean you don't live in any of them.

Creative people live in two worlds. One is the ordinary world which they share with others and in which they are not in any special way set apart from their fellow men. The other is private and it is in this world that the creative acts take place.

There are two worlds: the world that we can measure with line and rule, and the world we feel with our hearts and imagination.

There is a world of happiness where there is no difference between things because there is no one there to ask about the difference. But that is not the world of men. Some men have the vanity to believe that they live in two worlds, but that is only their vanity. There is but one single world for us. We are men, and must follow the world of men contentedly.