Let us not take for granted that life exists more fully in what is commonly thought big than in what is commonly thought small.

. . . to walk alone in London is the greatest rest.

Alone, condemned, deserted, as those who are about to die are alone, there was a luxury in it, an isolation full of sublimity; a freedom which the attached can never know

When people are happy they have a reserve upon which to draw, whereas she was like a wheel without a tyre

Nothing induces me to read a novel except when I have to make money by writing about it. I detest them.

The weather varies between heavy fog and pale sunshine; My thoughts follow the exact same process.

The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it.