You have the itch for writing born in you. It's quite incurable. What are you going to do with it?

March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight which gradually lost itself in an elfland of moonshine.

What care I if it be "wild and improbable" and "lacking in literary art"? I refuse to be any longer hampered by such canons of criticism. The one essential thing I demand of a book is that it should interest me. If it does, I forgive it every other fault.

You can't have many exclamation points left,' thought Anne, 'but no doubt the supply of italics is inexhaustible.

Fear is a confession of weakness. What you fear is stronger than you, or you think it is, else you wouldn't be afraid of it.

Of all the uncertain things marriage is the uncertainest.

We ought always to try to influence others for good.