It's by understanding me, and the boys, and mother, that you have helped me. I expect that is the only way one person ever really can help another.

The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one’s own.

Sometimes I wonder why God ever trusts talent in the hands of women, they usually make such an infernal mess of it. I think He must do it as a sort of ghastly joke.

The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.

Oh, he’s an old friend from the West,” said Eden easily. “I won’t introduce you, because he doesn’t like people. He’s a recluse. Good-bye.

It's all very well to tell us to forgive our enemies; our enemies can never hurt us very much. But oh, what about forgiving our friends?