What the reporters are like! They are mad with excitement at the thought of my approaching demise. Kind Sister Farquhar, my nurse, spends much of her time in throwing them downstairs. But one got in the other day, and asked me if I mind the fact that I must die.

By the time I was eleven years old, I had been taught that nature, far from abhorring a Vacuum, positively adores it.

If certain critics and poetasters had their way, 'Ordinary Piety' and its child, Dullness, would be the masters of poetry.

When we think of cruelty, we must try to remember the stupidity, the envy, the frustration from which it has arisen.

The trouble with most Englishwomen is that they will dress as if they had been a mouse in a previous incarnation... they do not want to attract attention.

Good taste is the worst vice ever invented.

I may say that I think greed about poetry is the only permissible greed - it is, indeed, unavoidable.