We are also rather concerned about our moorhen who went mad while we were in Italy and began to build a nest in a tree. ... she walks about in the tree, looking as uneasy yet persevering as a district visitor in a brothel.

once, when I was a young lady and on a night express ... I was awakened by a man coming in from the corridor and taking hold of my leg ... Quite as much to my own astonishment as his, I uttered the most appalling growl that ever came out of a tigress. He fled, poor man, without a word: and I lay there, trembling slightly, not at my escape but at my potentialities.

Nine people out of ten (in Germany and England, perhaps ten people) would rather wait for their rights than fight for their rights.

Idleness is righteous if it is comfortable. Uncomfortable idleness is sin & sinful waste.

And another day is tucked under my wing.

I wish I could write librettos for the rest of my life. It is the purest of human pleasures, a heavenly hermaphroditism of being both writer and musician. No wonder that selfish beast Wagner kept it all to himself.

Love is the only real patriation, and without one's dear one sits in a dreary and boring exile.