I might not be a good socialist, any more than I'm a good Christian, but I am one.

You see, all that I ever held dear has been taken from me," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "And when you've lost everything-" Her facade began to crumble, and her voice broke, but she made herself carry on. "When you've lost everything, you've got nothing to lose.

Why do you have to be the same as the others? ...Most of them are stupid.

What she needs,' Tom said aloud 'is a husband.' Agnes said crisply, 'Well, she can't have mine.

She loved him because he had brought her back to life. She had been like a caterpillar in a cocoon, and he had drawn her out and shown her that she was a butterfly.

Most of my stories have some basis in fact.

We all now tell stories by cutting from one dramatic scene to the next, whereas Victorian novelists felt free to write long passages of undramatic summary.