The child lives in the book; but just as much the book lives in the child.

She walked about with the rather fated expression you see in photographs of girls who have subsequently been murdered, but nothing had so far happened to her.

There is no doubt that sorrow brings one down in the world. The aristocratic privilege of silence belongs, you soon find out, to only the happy state- or, at least, to the state when pain keeps within bounds.

fashion seems to exist for an abstract person who is not you or me.

All your youth you want to have your greatness taken for granted; when you find it taken for granted, you are unnerved.

To the sun Rome owes its underlying glow, and its air called golden - to me, more the yellow of white wine; like wine it raises agreeability to poetry.

Dogs are a habit, I think.