Here I am,' I thought, 'back from the jungle, back from the ruins. Here, where wealth is no longer gorgeous and power has no dignity.

These memories, which are my life--for we possess nothing certainly except the past--were always with me.

It doesn't matter what people call you unless they call you pigeon pie and eat you up.

Professional reviewers read so many bad books in the course of duty that they get an unhealthy craving for arresting phrases.

Perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving-stones along the weary road that others have tramped before us; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us.

We can trace almost all the disasters of English history to the influence of Wales.

What is youth except a man or a woman before it is ready or fit to be seen.