Walking down Belmotte was the oddest sensation-- every step took us deeper into the mist until at last it closed over our heads. It was like being drowned in the ghost of water.

I shouldn't think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea.

It's odd how different a house feels when one is alone in it. It makes it easier to think rather private thoughts.

Cruel blows of fate call for extreme kindness in the family circle.

It came to me that Hyde Park has never belonged to London - that it has always been , in spirit, a stretch of countryside; and that it links the Londons of all periods together most magically - by remaining forever unchanged at the heart of a ever-changing town.

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 have really sinned. I am going to pause now, and sit here on the mound repenting in deepest shame.