What is writing but an expression of my own life?

Before exulatation had vanished, I felt as if I had been granted a marvellous privilege. Out of the inscrutable waters a beautiful fish had somehow leaped to show me fleetingly the life and spirit of his element.

It was a decent New Year's, but it took a million officers to make it so.

Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.

There are hours when I must force the novel out of my mind and be interested in the children.

I see so much more than I used to see. The effect has been to depress and sadden and hurt me terribly.

I hope I have found myself, my work, my happiness - under the light of the western skies.