The profound difference that divides the human race is a question of bait - whether to fish with worms or not.

Still, the sun was hot. Still, one got over things. Still, life had a way of adding day to day

I will go down with my colours flying.

The mind must be allowed to settle undisturbed over the object in order to secrete the pearl.

All this pitting of sex against sex, of quality against quality; all this claiming of superiority and imputing of inferiority belong to the private-school stage of human existence where there are sides, and it is necessary for one side to beat another side.

I enjoy almost everything. Yet I have some restless searcher in me. Why is there not a discovery in life? Something one can lay hands on and say “This is it”? My depression is a harassed feeling. I’m looking: but that’s not it — that’s not it. What is it? And shall I die before I find it?

Have you any notion how many books are written about women in the course of one year? Have you any notion how many are written by men? Are you aware that you are, perhaps, the most discussed animal in the universe?