Little lies that make people feel better are not bad, like thanking someone for a meal they made even if you hated it, or telling a sick person they look better when they don't, or someone with a hideous new hat that it's lovely. But to yourself you must tell the truth

I feel there's a funny little hole in me that wasn't there before, like a splinter in your finger, but this is somewhere above my stomach.

[Harriet] hated math. She hated math with every bone in her body. She spent so much time hating it that she never had time to do it.

She didn't care anymore... and she got no pleasure from the work she did, but she did it. Everything bored her. She found that when she didn't have a notebook it was hard for her to think. The thoughts came slowly, as though they had to squeeze through a tiny door to get to her, whereas when she wrote, they flowed out faster than she could put them down. She sat very stupidly with a blank mind until finall 'I feel different' came slowly to her mind. Yes, she thought, after a long pause. And then, after more time, 'Mean, I feel mean.

Don't mess with anybody on a Monday. It's a bad, bad day.

I think maybe they're all right when they say there are some things I won't know anything about until I'm older. But if [love] makes you like to eat all kinds of wurst I'm not sure I'm going to like this.

Life is a struggle and a good spy gets in there and fights.