To enjoy freedom we have to control ourselves.

Habits and customs are a convenience devised for the support of timid natures who dare not allow their souls free play.

The weather varies between heavy fog and pale sunshine; My thoughts follow the exact same process.

Lord, how tired one gets of one's own writing.

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.

It is worth mentioning, for future reference, that the creative power which bubbles so pleasantly in beginning a new book quiets down after a time, and one goes on more steadily. Doubts creep in. Then one becomes resigned. Determination not to give in, and the sense of an impending shape keep one at it more than anything.

The mind is the most capricious of insects — flitting, fluttering.