Young Girls Like The Excess Of Any

Grown-up People Seem To Be Busy By Clockwork... They Run Their Unswerving Course From Object To Object, Directed By Some Mysterious Inner Needle That Points All The Time To What They Must Do Next. You Can Only Marvel At Such Misuse Of Time.

The Child Lives In The Book; But Just As Much The Book Lives In The Child.

Art, At Any Rate In A Novel, Must Be Indissolubly Linked With Craft.

Two Things Are Terrible In Childhood: Helplessness (being In Other People's Power) And Apprehension - The Apprehension That Something Is Being Concealed From Us Because It Is Too Bad To Be Told.

... It Appears To Me That Problems, Inherent In Any Writing, Loom Unduly Large When One Looks Ahead. Though Nothing Is Easy, Little Is Quite Impossible.