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.

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

The one Bach piece I learnt made me feel I was being repeatedly hit on the head with a teaspoon.

I have noticed that rooms which are extra clean feel extra cold

So many of the loveliest things in England are melancholy.

Like many other much-loved humans, they believed that they owned their dogs, instead of realizing that their dogs owned them.

Still, looking through the old volumes was soothing, because thinking of the past made the present seem a little less real.