The only advice ... that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions.

Beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty — it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life — froze it.

One can only believe entirely, perhaps, in what one cannot see.

He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.

There is no doubt in my mind, that I have found out how to begin (at 40) to say something in my own voice.

Unless you catch ideas on the wing and nail them down, you will soon cease to have any.

One should be a painter. As a writer, I feel the beauty, which is almost entirely colour, very subtle, very changeable, running over my pen, as if you poured a large jug of champagne over a hairpin.