I sold flowers. I didn't sell myself. Now you've made a lady of me I'm not fit to sell anything else.
I can't turn your soul on. Leave me those feelings; and you can take away the voice and the face. They are not you.
There are no secrets better kept than the secrets that everybody guesses.
It exasperated her to think that the dungeon in which she had languished for so many unhappy years had been unlocked all the time, and that the impulses she had so carefully struggled with and stifled...
Miracles, in the sense of phenomena we cannot explain, surround us on every hand: life itself is the miracle of miracles.
An index is a great leveller.
In heaven an angel is no one in particular.
We're human beings we are - all of us - and that's what people are liable to forget. Human beings don't like peace and goodwill and everybody loving everybody else. However much they may think they do...
We live in an atmosphere of shame. We are ashamed of everything that is real about us; ashamed of ourselves, of our relatives, of our incomes, of our accents, of our opinions, of our experience, just...
Everybody has choices, Mother. The poorest girl alive may not be able to choose between being Queen of England or Principal of Newnham; but she can choose between rag-picking and flower-selling, accor...