Unless we remember we cannot understand.

One person with passion is better than forty people merely interested.

Their quarrel was no more surprising than are most quarrels — inevitable at the time, incredible afterwards.

This solitude opressed her; she was accustomed to have her thoughts confirmed by others or, at all events, contradicted; it was too dreadful not to know whether she was thinking right or wrong.

The sort of poetry I seek only resides in objects Man can't touch - like England 's grass network of lanes 100 years ago, but today he can destroy them and only Lord Farrer keeps him from doing it.

Logic! Good gracious! What rubbish!

How do I know what I have to say wntil I see what I have said?