It was not that she was out of temper, but that the world was not equal to the demands of her fine organism.

The greatest benefit we owe to the artist, whether painter, poet, or novelist, is the extension of our sympathies.

Hatred is like fire, it makes even light rubbish deadly.

Steady work turns genius to a loom.

We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder to feed our supreme selves

I shall be so glad if you will tell me what to read. I have been looking into all the books in the library at Offendene, but there is nothing readable. The leaves all stick together and smell musty. I wish I could write books to amuse myself, as you can! How delightful it must be to write books after one's own taste instead of reading other people's! Home-made books must be so nice.

It is always fatal to have music or poetry interrupted.