I wondered how many people there were in the world who suffered, and continued to suffer, because they could not break out from their own web of shyness and reserve, and in their blindness and folly built up a great distorted wall in front of them that hid the truth.

It wouldn't make for sanity would it, living with the devil.

People who mattered could not take the humdrum world. But this was not the world, it was enchantment; and all of it was mine.

...but I should say that kindliness, and sincerity, and if I may say so--modesty--are worth far more to a man, to a husband, than all the wit and beauty in the world.

All whispers and echoes from a past that is gone teem into the sleeper's brain, and he is with them, and part of them.

I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We all of us have our particular devil who rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end.

I wish I was a woman of about thirty-six dressed in black satin with a string of pearls.