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.

Am I really admitting that my sister is determined to marry a man she has only seen once and doesn't much like the look of? It is half real and half pretense - and I have an idea that it is a game most girls play when they meet an eligible young men. They just...wonder.

I should rather like to tear these last pages out of the book. Shall I? No-a journal ought not to cheat.

Thinking of death--strange, beautiful, terrible and a long way off--made me feel happier than ever.

Rose doesn’t like the flat country, but I always did – flat country seems to give the sky such a chance.

How can a young man like to wear a beard?

Only half a page left now. Shall I fill it with 'I love you, I love you'-- like father's page of cats on the mat? No. Even a broken heart doesn't warrant a waste of good paper.