Oh, it is wonderful to wake up in the morning with things to look forward to!
I only want to write. And there's no college for that except life.
Wakings are the worst times--almost before my eyes are open a great weight seems to roll on my heart.
Prayer's a very tricky business.
There was a wonderful atmosphere of gentle age, a smell of flowers and beeswax, sweet yet faintly sour and musty; a smell that makes you feel very tender towards the past.
I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.