The principal thing in this world is to keep one's soul aloft.

I am finding it very hard to get my novel started. I suffer from stylistic abscesses; and sentences keep itching without coming to a head.

Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins.

The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.

Stupidity lies in wanting to draw conclusions.

Noble characters and pure affections and happy scenes are very comforting things. They're a refuge from life's disillusionments.

The hearts of women are like those little pieces of furniture with secret hiding - places, full of drawers fitted into each other; you go a lot of trouble, break your nails, and in the bottom find some withered flower, a few grains of dust - or emptiness!