She had no tolerance for scenes which were not of her own making.

...every literature, in its main lines, reflects the chief characteristics of the people for whom, and about whom, it is written.

The early mist had vanished and the fields lay like a silver shield under the sun. It was one of the days when the glitter of winter shines through a pale haze of spring.

Life is made up of compromises.

An education is like a crumbling building that needs constant upkeep with repairs and additions.

Art is on the side of the oppressed. Think before you shudder at the simplistic dictum and its heretical definition of the freedom of art. For if art is freedom of the spirit, how can it exist within the oppressors?

...though she had not had the strength to shake off the spell that bound her to him she had lost all spontaneity of feeling, and seemed to herself to be passively awaiting a fate she could not avert.