I have almost completed a long novel, but it is unpublishable until my death and England's.

Like all her friends, I miss her greatly...But...I am sure there is no case for lamentation...Virginia Woolf got through an immense amount of work, she gave acute pleasure in new ways, she pushed the light of the English language a little further against darkness. Those are facts.

There has been, is, and always will be every conceivable type of person.

God is not Love in the East. He is Power, although Mercy may temper it.

It comes to this then: there always have been people like me and always will be, and generally they have been persecuted.

A funeral is not death, any more than baptism is birth or marriage union. All three are the clumsy devices, coming now too late, now too early, by which Society would register the quick motions of man.

There are moments when the inner life actually 'pays,' when years of self-scrutiny, conducted for no ulterior motive, are suddenly of practical use.