How simple life becomes when things like mirrors are forgotten.

Women want love to be a novel, men a short story.

I felt rather exhausted, and wondered, rather shocked at my callous thought, why old people were sometimes such a strain. Worse than young children or puppies because one had to be polite.

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

Here was the freedom I desired, long sought-for, not yet known Freedom to write, to walk, to wander, freedom to climb hills, to pull a boat, to be alone.

Happiness happens when you fit with your life, when you fit so harmoniously that whatsoever you are doing is your joy. Happiness is not a possession to be prized, it is a quality of thought, a state of mind.

When one is writing a novel in the first person, one must be that person.