The crown of life is neither happiness nor annihilation; it is understanding.

What with the reviews of critics, the sarcasms of one's friends, the reproaches of one's own taste, there's precious little peace after publishing a book.

I find you in all small and lovely things; in the little fishes like flames in the green water, in the furred and stupid softness of bumble-bees fat as laughter, in all the chiming radiance of warmth and light and scent in the summer garden.

Youth knows no remedy for grief but death.

The world, with all its beauty and adventure, its richness and variety, is darkened by cruelty. Death, if it ends the loveliness, the adventure, ends also that. Death balances the picture.

But questioning does not mean the end of loving, and loving does not mean the abnegation of intelligence

The only difficulty is to know what bits to choose and what to leave out. Novel-writing is not creation, it is selection.