Who tells a finer tale than any of us. Silence does.

The lime trees were in bloom. But in the early morning only a faint fragrance drifted through the garden, an airy message, an aromatic echo of the dreams during the short summer night.

through the loveliness and power of her dream world she was now, in her old frock and botched shoes, very likely the loveliest, mightiest and most dangerous person on earth

No domestic animal can be as still as a wild animal. The civilized people have lost the aptitude of stillness, and must take lessons in silence from the wild before they are accepted by it.

But by the time that I had nothing left, I myself was the lightest thing of all for fate to get rid of.

I start with a tingle, a kind of feeling of the story I will write. Then come the characters, and they take over, they make the story.

Man and woman are two locked caskets, of which each contains the key to the other.