The Only Sin Passion Can Commit Is

And Then, At Night, The Lit Lamp And The Drawn Curtain, With The Flutter Of The Turned Page And Soft Scrape Of Pen On Paper The Only Sounds To Break The Silence Between Quarter- And Quarter-chime.

All The Children Seem To Be Coming Out Quite Intelligent, Thank Goodness. It Would Have Been Such A Bore To Be The Mother Of Morons, And It’s An Absolute Toss-up, Isn’t It? If One Could Only Invent Them, Like Characters In Books, It Would Be Much More Satisfactory To A Well-regulated Mind.

A Human Being Must Have Occupation If He Or She Is Not To Become A Nuisance To The World.

[o]ne Can Scarcely Be Frightened Off Writing What One Wants To Write For Fear An Obscure Reviewer Should Patronise One On That Account.

You're Thinking That People Don't Keep Up Old Jealousies For Twenty Years Or So. Perhaps Not. Not Just Primitive, Brute Jealousy. That Means A Word And A Blow. But The Thing That Rankles Is Hurt Vanity. That Sticks. Humiliation. And We've All Got A Sore Spot We Don't Like To Have Touched.