Everything in the least connected with him has value for me; if someone even mentions his name it is like a little present to me-and I long to mention it myself

Though he had very little Latin beyond "Cave canem," he had, as a young dog, devoured Shakespeare (in a tasty leather binding).

What is it about the English countryside — why is the beauty so much more than visual? Why does it touch one so?

Perhaps if I make myself write I shall find out what is wrong with me.

People's clothes ought to be buried with them.

...With stories even a page can take me hours, but the truth seems to flow out as fast as I can get it down.

The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to.