We are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.

When the body escaped mutilation, seldom did the heart go to the grave unscarred.

As a woman, I have no country

How are we to account for the strange human craving for the pleasure of feeling afraid which is so much involved in our love of ghost stories?

In fact, though their acquaintance had been so short, they had guessed, as always happens between lovers, everything of any importance about each other in two seconds at the utmost, and it now remained only to fill in such unimportant details as what they were called; where they lived; and whether they were beggars or people of substance.

...the problem of space remained, she thought, taking up her brush again. It glared at her. The whole mass of the picture was poised upon that weight. Beautiful and bright it should be on the surface, feathery and evanescent, one colour melting into another like the colours on a butterfly's wing; but beneath the fabric must be clamped together with bolts of iron.

It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy.