We were restless for ages...After a while I heard an owl hooting and calmed myself by thinking of it flying over the dark fields – and then I remembered it would be pouncing on mice. I love owls, but I wish God had made them vegetarian.

...surely I could give him--a sort of contentment... That isn't enough to give. Not for the giver.

Certain unique books seem to be without forerunners or successors as far as their authors are concerned. Even though they may profoundly influence the work of other writers, for their creator they're complete, not leading anywhere.

Perhaps what you call conventionality, I call decency.

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

I have found that sitting in a place where you have never sat before can be inspiring.

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