The memory of man is as old as misfortune

Somewhere in the heart of experience there is an order and a coherence which we might purprise if we were attentive enough, loving enough, or patient enough.

What are stars but points in the body of God where we insert the healing needles of our terror and longing?

We should tackle reality in a slightly jokey way, otherwise we miss its point.

I suppose the secret of his success is in his tremendous idleness which almost approaches the supernatural.

I am just a refugee from the long slow toothache of English life. It is terrible to love life so much you can hardly breathe!

A diary is the last place to go if you wish to seek the truth about a person. Nobody dares to make the final confession to themselves on paper: or at least, not about love.