Funny,′ said Harriet to herself. ‘The world goes on turning, and it has all these troubles in it.
So many grown-up people seem to be nothing very much.
Sometimes it seemed to him that the house had a bad wild life of its own; the impression of its evil lingered, in its name, in its atmosphere...
There is an Indian proverb that says that everyone is a house with four rooms, a physical, a mental, an emotional, and a spiritual. Most of us tend to live in one room most of the time but unless we go into every room every day, even if only to keep it aired, we are not a complete person.
To me and my kind life itself is a story and we have to tell it in stories – that is the way it falls.
If you love the wrong people it’s still love, isn’t it, no matter what kind of love...
Drink very good tea out of a thin Wocester cup of colour between apricot and pink...
A garden isn’t meant to be useful. It’s for joy.
As one gets older being sad and miserable can become a bit of a habit. To counteract this, she suggests making a point of savoring such things as the tastiness of a piece of fruit, or other small things we might have been prone to overlook during our younger, busier days.
You must remember garden catalogues are as big liars as house-agents.
To wake for the first time in a new place can be like another birth.
The best would be to have friends who came and went away; but if I had to choose between their never coming or never going away, I think I would choose that they do not come.
I loved Mr. Darcy far more than any of my own husbands.
It’s only by being obstinate that anything is got, or done.
Once you have felt the Indian dust, you will never be free of it.
Every piece of writing starts from what I call a grit a sight or sound, a sentence or happening that does not pass away but quite inexplicably lodges in the mind.
You can be a nuisance to your family. You mustn’t be a nuisance to your friends.
I don’t know if I believe in God, but I know I believe in the devil. I have met him.
Wanting is the beginning of getting.
Memory is the only friend of grief.