What can you do if you are thirty and, turning the corner of your own street, you are overcome, suddenly, by a feeling of bliss - absolute bliss - as though you'd suddenly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun and it burned in your bosom, sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle into every finger and toe?

I am a recluse at present & do nothing but write & read & read & write

Everything in life that we really accept undergoes a change.

Regret is an appalling waste of time.

Whenever I prepare for a journey I prepare as though for death. Should I never return, all is in order.

Courage is like a disobedient dog, once it starts running away it flies all the faster for your attempts to recall it.

Oh, how quickly things changed! Why didn't happiness last for ever? For ever wasn't a bit too long.