Thinking of death – strange, beautiful, terrible and a long way off – made me feel happier than ever.
Oh, comfortable cocoa!
How can a young man like to wear a beard?
I could marry the Devil himself if he had some money.
The Devil’s out of fashion.
It is rather exciting to write by moonlight.
I was wandering around as usual, in my unpleasantly populated sub-conscious...
Was I the only woman in the world who, at my age – and after a lifetime of quite rampant independence – still did not quite feel grown up?
Oh, wise young judge.
Stew’s so comforting on a rainy day.
Only half a page left now. Shall I fill it with ‘I love you, I love you’ – like father’s page of cats on the mat? No. Even a broken heart doesn’t warrant a waste of good paper.
Americans do seem to say things which make the English notice England.
I know all about the facts of life, and I don’t think much of them.
Still, looking through the old volumes was soothing, because thinking of the past made the present seem a little less real.
If you love people, you take them on trust.
Oh, it is wonderful to wake up in the morning with things to look forward to!
It’s odd how different a house feels when one is alone in it. It makes it easier to think rather private thoughts...
And at last father flung the rug off as if it were hampering him and strode over to the table saying, ‘cocoa, cocoa!’ – it might have been the most magnificent drink in the world; which, personally, I think it is.
I have really sinned. I am going to pause now, and sit here on the mound repenting in deepest shame...
I should rather like to tear these last pages out of the book. Shall I? No-a journal ought not to cheat.