How can a young man like to wear a beard?
As we drove I remembered how I had told myself I would make Simon happy. I didn't feel the same person. For I now knew that I had been stuffing myself up with a silly fairy tale, that I could never me...
Art could state very little - it's whole business is to evoke responses.
And at last father flung the rug off as if it were hampering him and strode over to the table saying, 'cocoa, cocoa!'-- it might have been the most magnificent drink in the world; which, personally, I...
A mist is rolling over the fields. Why is a summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?
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.
My hand is very tired but I want to go on writing. I keep resting and thinking. All day I have been two people - the me imprisoned in yesterday and the me out here on the mound; and now there is a thi...
My God - it's a green child! said the American. What is this place - the House of Usher?
Just to be in love seemed the most blissful luxury I had ever known. 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...
I wasn't merely remembering, it seemed to be trapped inside my eyelids.
I get the feeling I do on finishing a novel with a brick-wall happy ending - I mean the kind of ending when you never think any more about the characters.
I found it quite easy to carry on a casual conversation it was as if my real feelings were down fathoms deep in my mind and what we said was just a feathery surface spray.
I could marry the Devil himself if he had some money.
Perhaps it is loving that counts, not the being loved in return- that perhaps true loving can never know anything but happiness.
What I'd really hate would be the settled feeling, with nothing but happiness to look forward to. Of course no life is perfectly happy- Rose's children will probably get ill, the servants may be diffi...
Walking down Belmotte was the oddest sensation-- every step took us deeper into the mist until at last it closed over our heads. It was like being drowned in the ghost of water.
Truthfulness so often goes with ruthlessness.
Thinking of death--strange, beautiful, terrible and a long way off--made me feel happier than ever.
Simon: You always were wise beyond your years. Cassandra: No I wasn't. I used to be consciously naive.
She will want things to stay just as they are. She will never have the fun of hoping something wonderful and exiting may be just around the corner.