A red, red rose, all wet with dew, With leaves of green by red shot through.

It is curious that nearly all the great fortunes are made by turning beautiful things into ugly ones. Making beauty out of ugliness is very ill-paid work.

A red, red rose, all wet with dew, With leaves of green by red shot through.

People think six is a great many, when it's children. ...they don't mind six pairs of boots, or six pounds of apples, or six oranges, especially in equations, but they seem to think that you ought not to have five brothers and sisters.

Time and space are only forms of thought.

Also she had the power of silent sympathy. That sounds rather dull, I know, but it's not so dull as it sounds. It just means that a person is able to know that you are unhappy, and to love you extra on that account, without bothering you by telling you all the time how sorry she is for you.

I never read prefaces, and it is not much good writing things just for people to skip. I wonder other authors have never thought of this.