Death grows friendlier as we grow older.

She had...the glimmerings of a sense of humour - which is simply another name for a sense of the fitness of things.

People told her she hadn't changed much, in a tone which hinted they were surprised and a little disappointed she hadn't.

I know I haven't much sense or sobriety, but I've got what is ever so much better — the knack of making people like me.

But Anne with her elbows on the window sill, her soft cheek laid against her clasped hands, and her eyes filled with visions, looked out unheedingly across city roof and spire to that glorious dome of sunset sky and wove her dreams of a possible future from the golden tissue of youth's own optimism. All the Beyond was hers, with its possibilities lurking rosily in the oncoming years — each year a rose of promise to be woven into an immortal chaplet.

It's as easy to give away a million as a hundred if you have not got either.

I believe flowers have souls. I have known roses that I expect to meet in heaven.