Of course, literature is the only spiritual and humane career. Even painting tends to dumness, and music turns people erotic, whereas the more you write the nicer you become.

That great Cathedral space which was childhood.

Sometimes I think heaven must be one continuous unexhausted reading.

For if Chloe likes Olivia and Mary Carmichael knows how to express it she will light a torch in that vast chamber where nobody has yet been.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists; the reality of everything.

She felt drawing further from her and further from her an Archduke, (she did not mind that) a fortune, (she did not mind that) the safety and circumstance of married life, (she did not mind that) but life she heard going from her, and a lover.

Words belong to each other.