It is devilish difficult to criticise society & also create human beings.

It is easy to face Death and Fate, and the things that sound so dreadful. It is on my muddles that I look back with horror--on thethings that I might have avoided.

He had known so much about her once -what she thought, how she felt, the reasons for her actions. And now he only knew that he loved her, and all the other knowledge seemed passing from him just as he needed it most.

Don't believe those lies about intellectual people. They're only written to soothe the majority.

Oxford is Oxford: not a mere receptacle for youth, like Cambridge. Perhaps it wants its inmates to love it rather than to love one another.

Hope, politeness, the blowing of a nose, the squeak of a boot, all produce "boum.

For it is a serious thing to have been watched. We all radiate something curiously intimate when we believe ourselves to be alone.