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

Warm, eager, living life-to be rooted in life-to learn, to desire, to know, to feel, to think, to act. This is what I want. And nothing less. That is what I must try for.

I have such a horror of telegrams that ask me how I am!! I always want to reply dead.

roses are the only flowers at garden-parties; the only flowers that everybody is certain of knowing.

Every time one leaves anywhere, something precious, which ought not to be killed, is left to die.

I love this place; I love mountains and big skies and forests. And the weather is still supremely beautiful even though the lower peaks are powdered with fresh snow. But Heavens! What sun. It never has an ending. I am basking at this minute - half past four - too hot without a hat, & the sky is that transparent blue only to be seen in autumn - the forest trees steeped in light.

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