I think you’re beautiful, the only beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I love your voice and everything to do with you, down to your clothes or the room you are sitting in. I adore you.

How few writers can prostitute all their powers!

They go forth [into the world] with well-developed bodies, fairly developed minds and undeveloped hearts. An undeveloped heart - not a cold one. The difference is important.

I never could get on with representative individuals but people who existed on their own account and with whom it might therefore be possible to be friends.

The advance of regret can be so gradual that it is impossible to say "yesterday I was happy, today I am not.

Do we find happiness so often that we should turn it off the box when it happens to sit there?

At night, when the curtains are drawn and the fire flickers, my books attain a collective dignity.