She was a lucky woman who had established a happy knack of writing what quite a lot of people wanted to read.

Bitterness leads nowhere. It turns back on itself. It is the eternal cul-de-sac.

Nobody knows what another person is thinking. They may imagine they do, but they are nearly always wrong.

When engaged in eating, the brain should be the servant of the stomach.

I think, myself, that one's memories represent those moments which, insignificant as they may seem, nevertheless represent the inner self and oneself as most really oneself.

Is there ever any particular spot where one can put one's finger and say, "It all began that day, at such a time and such a place, with such an incident?

I didn't want to work. It was as simple as that. I distrusted work, disliked it. I thought it was a very bad thing that the human race had unfortunately invented for itself.