But how entirely I live in my imagination; how completely depend upon spurts of thought, coming as I walk, as I sit; things churning up in my mind and so making a perpetual pageant, which is to be my happiness.

When I cannot see words curling like rings of smoke round me I am in darkness—I am nothing.

It is useless to read Greek in translation; translators can but offer us a vague equivalent.

So that is marriage, Lily thought, a man and a woman looking at a girl throwing a ball

About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she muttered, dreamily half asleep, how we perished, each alone.

[Final diary entry:] Occupation is essential. And now with some pleasure I find that it's seven; and must cook dinner. Haddock and sausage meat. I think it is true that one gains a certain hold on sausage and haddock by writing them down.

Books are the mirrors of the soul.