The thought came to me that perhaps it is the loving that counts, not the being loved in return - that perhaps true loving can never know anything but happiness.
I suddenly knew that religion, God - something beyond everyday life - was there to be found, provided one is really willing. And I saw that though what I felt in the church was only imagination, it wa...
Time takes the ugliness and horror out of death and turns it into beauty.
Perhaps watching someone you love suffer can teach you even more than suffering yourself can.
If you love people, you take them on trust.
I could marry the Devil himself if he had some money.
Everything in the least connected with him has value for me; if someone even mentions his name it is like a little present to me-and I long to mention it myself
I have found that sitting in a place where you have never sat before can be inspiring.
Only the margin left to write on now. I love you, I love you, I love you.
My imagination longs to dash ahead and plan developments; but I have noticed that when things happen in one's imaginings, they never happen in one's life, so I am curbing myself.
I wonder if there isn't a catch about having plenty of money? Does it eventually take the pleasure out of things?
How I wish I lived in a Jane Austen novel!
Was I the only woman in the world who, at my age - and after a lifetime of quite rampant independence - still did not quite feel grown up?
Perhaps if I make myself write I shall find out what is wrong with me.
Like many other much-loved humans, they believed that they owned their dogs, instead of realizing that their dogs owned them.
I know all about the facts of life, and I don't think much of them.
A mist is rolling over the fields. Why is a summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?
When I read a book, I put in all the imagination I can, so that it is almost like writing a book as well as reading it - or rather, it is like living it.
There used to be two of us always on the look-out for life, talking to Miss Blossom at night, wondering, hoping; two Bronte-Jane Austen girls, poor but spirited, two Girls of Godsend Castle.
There is only one page left to write on. I will fill it with words of only one syllable. I love. I have loved. I will love.