Yet there are moments when the walls of the mind grow thin; when nothing is unabsorbed, and I could fancy that we might blow so vast a bubble that the sun might set and rise in it and we might take the blue of midday and the black of midnight and be cast off and escape from here and now.

Clothes are but a symbol of something hid deep beneath.

I detest the masculine point of view. I am bored by his heroism, virtue, and honour. I think the best these men can do is not talk about themselves anymore.

The history of most women is hidden either by silence, or by flourishes and ornaments that amount to silence.

What does the brain matter compared with the heart?

King old ladies assure us that cats are often the best judges of character. A cat will always to to a good man, they say.

Disastrous would have been the result if a fire or a death had suddenly demanded something heroic of human nature, but tragedies come in the hungry hours.