To pursue truth with such astonishing lack of consideration for other people's feelings, to rend the thin veils of civilisation so wantonly, so brutally, was to her so horrible an outrage of human decency that, without replying, dazed and blinded, she bend her head as if to let her pelt f jagged hail, the drench of dirty water, bespatter her unrebuked.

Communication is truth; communication is happiness. To share is our duty; to go down boldly and bring to light those hidden thoughts which are the most diseased; to conceal nothing; to pretend nothing; if we are ignorant to say so; if we love our friends to let them know it.

The art of writing has for backbone some fierce attachment to an idea.

It is impossible for human beings, constituted as they are, both to fight and to have ideals.

There was a day when I liked writing letters -- it has gone. Unfortunately the passion for getting them remains.

About here, she thought, dabbling her fingers in the water, a ship had sunk, and she muttered, dreamily half asleep, how we perished, each alone.

Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, then to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.