No passion is stronger in the breast of a man than the desire to make others believe as he believes. Nothing so cuts at the root of his happiness and fills him with rage as the sense that another rates low what he prizes high.

I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.

It is no use trying to sum people up. One must follow hints, not exactly what is said, nor yet entirely what is done.

I like people to be unhappy because I like them to have souls.

We read Charlotte Bronte not for exquisite observation of character - her characters are vigorous and elementary; not for comedy - hers is grim and crude; not for a philosophic view of life - hers is that of a country parson's daughter; but for her poetry. Probably that is so with all writers who have, as she has, an overpowering personality, so that, as we say in real life, they have only to open the door to make themselves felt.

Clothes are but a symbol of something hid deep beneath.

I want the concentration and the romance, and the worlds all glued together, fused, glowing: have no time to waste any more on prose.