Still, life had a way of adding day to day

After that, how unbelievable death was! - that is must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all.

He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.

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.

Yet Byron never made tea as you do, who fill the pot so that when you put the lid on the tea spills over. There is a brown pool on the table--it is running among your books and papers. Now you mop it up, clumsily, with your pocket-hankerchief. You then stuff your hankerchief back into your pocket--that is not Byron; that is so essentially you that if I think of you in twenty years' time, when we are both famous, gouty and intolerable, it will be by that scene: and if you are dead, I shall weep.

Why are women... so much more interesting to men than men are to women?

Once she knows how to read there's only one thing you can teach her to believe in and that is herself.