You might drop your heart into me and you'd never hear it touch bottom.

there does seem to me something sad in life. It is hard to say what it is. I don't mean the sorrow that we all know, like illness and poverty and death. No, it is something different. It is there, deep down, deep down, part of one, like one's breathing.

September is different from all other months. It is more magical. I feel the strange chemical change in the earth which produces mushrooms is the cause, too, of the extra 'life' in the air - a resilience, a sparkle.

It is strange that there are times when I feel the stars are not at all solemn: they are secretly gay.

There are in life as many aspects as attitudes towards it, and aspects change with attitudes.

Better to write twaddle, anything, than nothing at all.

The late evening is the time of times. Then with that unearthly beauty before one it is not hard to realise how far one has to go. To write something that will be worthy of that rising moon, that pale light.