For nothing was simply one thing.
Great bodies of people are never responsible for what they do.
It was odd, she thought, how if one was alone, one leant to inanimate things; trees, streams, flowers; felt they expressed one; felt they became one; felt they knew one, in a sense were one; felt an irrational tenderness thus (she looked at that long steady light) as for oneself.
What a lark! What a plunge!
What a comfort is friendship in this world.
I often wish I'd got on better with your father,' he said.