...one emotion after another crept into her face like objects into a slowly developing picture.

A squalid phantasmagoria of breath

Cut out all these exclamation points. An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke.

Look at that,' she whispered, and then after a moment: 'I'd like to just get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around.

Nobody ever became a writer just by wanting to be one.

She was overstrained with grief and loneliness: almost any shoulder would have done as well.

It is in the twenties that the actual momentum of life begins to slacken, and it is a simple soul indeed to whom as many things are as significant and meaningful at thirty as at ten years before. At thirty an organ-grinder is a more or less a moth eaten man who grinds an organ - and once he was an organ-grinder! The unmistakable stigma of humanity touches all those impersonal and beautiful things that only youth ever grasps in their impersonal glory.