Second hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.

And again she felt alone in the presence of her old antagonist, life.

It's not catastrophes, murders, deaths, diseases, that age and kill us; it's the way people look and laugh, and run up the steps of omnibuses.

Alone, I often fall down into nothingness. I must push my foot stealthily lest I should fall off the edge of the world into nothingness. I have to bang my head against some hard door to call myself back to the body.

The way to write well is to live intensely.

But I don't think of the future, or the past, I feast on the moment. This is the secret of happiness, but only reached now in middle age.

There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'.