I prefer men to cauliflowers
I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life.
I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older.
Anyone who has the temerity to write about Jane Austen is aware of [two] facts: first, that of all great writers she is the most difficult to catch in the act of greatness; second, that there are twen...
It is no use trying to sum people up.
Fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners.
It was a desire, an echo, a sound; she could drape it in color, see it in form, hear it in music, but not in words; no, never in words. She sighed, teased by desires so incoherent, so incommunicable.
[...] there was only the sound of the sea.
So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.
My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.
For pleasure has no relish unless we share it.
Humour is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.
Well, we must wait for the future to show.
It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy.
First a warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable. The leaden circles dissolved in the air.
Fear no more, says the heart...
He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.
One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among them.
Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.
When the shriveled skin of the ordinary is stuffed out with meaning, it satisfies the senses amazingly.