I was never allowed to read the popular American children's books of my day because, as my mother said, the children spoke bad English without the author's knowing it.

... even in houses commonly held to be 'booky' one finds, nine times out of ten, not a library but a book-dump.

His whole future seemed suddenly to be unrolled before him; and passing down its endless emptiness he saw the dwindling figure of a man to whom nothing was ever to happen.

Every house is a mad-house at some time or another.

He bent and laid his lips on her hands, which were cold and lifeless. She drew them away, and he turned to the door, found his coat and hat under the faint gas-light of the hall, and plunged out into the winter night bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate.

And you'll sit beside me, and we'll look, not at visions, but at realities.

Only the fact that we are unaware how well our nearest know us enables us to live with them.