I was wandering around as usual, in my unpleasantly populated sub-conscious.

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

I know all about the facts of life, and I don't think much of them.

Wakings are the worst times--almost before my eyes are open a great weight seems to roll on my heart.

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

Ah, but you're the insidious type--Jane Eyre with of touch of Becky Sharp. A thoroughly dangerous girl.

I wanted to know more about the young ... strange that though they laughed so loud, they so seldom smiled. Perhaps laughter was involuntary whereas smiling was part of an attitude to life.