She was a handsome woman of forty-five and would remain so for many years.

Living in an age of advertisement, we are perpetually disillusioned. The perfect life is spread before us every day, but it changes and withers at a touch.

Public opinion polls are rather like children in a garden, digging things up all the time to see how they're growing.

The Canadian is often a baffled man because he feels different from his British kindred and his American neighbours, sharply refused to be lumped together with either of them, yet cannot make plain his difference.

Childhood, catching our imagination when it is fresh and tender, never lets go of us.

We must beware the revenge of the starved senses, the embittered animal in its prison.

Much of writing might be described as mental pregnancy with successive difficult deliveries.