But it struck him that people are not really dead until they are felt to be dead. As long as there is some misunderstanding about them, they possess a sort of immortality.

Long books, when read, are usually overpraised, because the reader wishes to convince others and himself that he has not wasted his time.

I have only got down on to paper, really, three types of people: the person I think I am, the people who irritate me, and the people I'd like to be.

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

She only felt that the candle would burn better, the packing go easier, the world be happier, if she could give and receive some human love.

It is obvious enough for the reader to conclude, "She loves young Emerson." A reader in Lucy's place would not find it obvious. Life is easy to chronicle, but bewildering to practice, and we welcome "nerves" or any other shibboleth that will cloak our personal desire. She loved Cecil; George made her nervous; will the reader explain to her that the phrases should have been reversed?

I believe in teaching people to be individuals, and to understand other individuals.