The world is come upon me, I used to keep it a long way off, But now I have been run over and I am in the hands of the hospital staff.

These thoughts are depressing I know. They are depressing, I wish I was more cheerful, it is more pleasant, Also it is a duty, we should smile as well as submitting To the purpose of One Above who is experimenting With various mixtures of human character which goes best, All is interesting for him it is exciting, but not for us. There I go again. Smile, smile, and get some work to do Then you will be practically unconscious without positively having to go.

I like food, I like stripping vegetables of their skins, I like to have a slim young parsnip under my knife.

one never knows really how things are with other people, they just do always seem more spirited than oneself somehow.

My Muse sits forlorn She wishes she had not been born She sits in the cold No word she says is ever told.

Truth is far and flat, and fancy is fiery; and truth is cold, and people feel the cold, and they may wrap themselves against it in fancies that are fiery, but they should not call them facts; and, generally, poets do not; they are shrewd, they feel the cold, too, but they know a hawk from a handsaw, a fact from a fancy, as none knows better.

Unpopular, lonely and loving, Elinor need not trouble, For if she were not so loving, She would not be so miserable.