O why do I ever let anyone read what I write! Every time I have to go through a breakfast with a letter of criticism I swear I will write for my own praise or blame in future. It is a misery.

There was no treachery too base for the world to commit.

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

When the shriveled skin of the ordinary is stuffed out with meaning, it satisfies the senses amazingly.

If only she could put them together, she felt, write them out in some sentence, then she would have got at the truth of things.

The connection between dress and war is not far to seek; your finest clothes are those you wear as soldiers.

We must reconcile ourselves to a season of failures and fragments.