Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night.

How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?

Besides, in this random miscellaneous company we may rub against some complete stranger who will, with luck, turn into the best friend we have in the world.

It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.

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

Like most uneducated Englishwomen, I like reading--I like reading books in the bulk.

Style is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm. Once you get that, you can't use the wrong words.