What is meant by reality? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable - now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying

The beauty of the world, which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.

I like going from one lighted room to another, such is my brain to me; lighted rooms.

A thousand things to be written had I time: had I power. A very little writing uses up my capacity for writing.

Ransack the language as he might, words failed him. He wanted another landscape, and another tongue.

The strange thing about life is that though the nature of it must have been apparent to every one for hundreds of years, no one has left any adequate account of it.

So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say.