conversation is like a dear little baby that is brought in to be handed round. You must rock it, nurse it, keep it on the move if you want it to keep smiling.

Once we have learned to read, meaning of words can somehow register without consciousness.

Wind moving through grass so that the grass quivers. This moves me with an emotion I don't even understand.

I love the rain. I want the feeling of it on my face.

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

But one day we shall be rich, and the next poor. One day we shall dine in a palace and the next we'll sit in a forest and toast mushrooms on a hatpin.

Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.