that expression you get in your eyes when you are very tired and everything is like a dream and you are starting to know what things are like underneath what people say they are.

Not that she objected to solitude. Quite the contrary. She had books, thank Heaven, quantities of books. All sorts of books.

I took the red dress down and put it against myself. 'Does it make me look intemperate and unchaste?' I said.

I found when I was a child that if I put the hurt into words, it would go.

Blot out the moon, Pull down the stars. Love in the dark, for we're for the dark So soon, so soon.

What you take to be hyprocrisy is sometimes a certain caution, sometimes genuine, though ponderous, childish, sometimes a mixture of both.

As it was in the beginning, ... is now, and ever shall be, world without end.