Writers do not find subjects; subjects find them.

Language is a mixture of statement and evocation.

Nothing can happen nowhere. The locale of the happening always colours the happening, and often, to a degree, shapes it.

It is not our exalted feelings, it is our sentiments that build the necessary home.

Mr. [Aldous] Huxley has been the alarming young man for a long time, a sort of perpetual clever nephew who can be relied on to flutter the lunch party. Whatever will he say next? How does he think of those things? He has been deplored once or twice, but feeling is in his favor: he is steadily read. He is at once the truly clever person and the stupid person's idea of the clever person; he is expected to be relentless, to administer intellectual shocks.

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

Two things are terrible in childhood: helplessness (being in other people's power) and apprehension - the apprehension that something is being concealed from us because it is too bad to be told.