I do not say I was ever what I would call "plain," but I have the sort of face that bores me when I see it on other people.

Although I am not stupid, the mathematical side of my brain is like dumb notes upon a damaged piano.

I have been devoured all my life by an incurable and burning impatience: and to this day find all oratory, biography, operas, films, plays, books, and persons, too long.

Symbols are the imaginative signposts of life.

All I can say about my mind is that, like a fire carefully laid by a good housemaid, it is one that any match will light.

She spends her day powdering her face till she looks like a bled pig.

If Kitchener was not a great man, he was, at least, a great poster.