It is when one is as tired as that that one's emotional state ceases to be normal. A tiny obstacle becomes an Everest in the path; a careless comment becomes a grievance to be nursed; a small disappointment is all of a sudden a suicidal affair.
... his wistful eye - the eye of a born book-lover - scanned the volumes lying on the stone table.
[...} lound French conversations, in which one never knows whether it is a row to the death or a proposal of marriage
It is very clear in an empty room by night what sort of people have sat and talked and occupied themselves in it by day.
There is something appalling in this warfare, silent, secret and unrelenting, that is waged by polite women with smiling faces and gentle manner, against one another.
... launching forth into a long and extremely bitter dissertation on the various ways persons of no intellectual conscience have of ill-treating books,
I will not go so far as to say that not to return books punctually is sinful, though deep down in my soul I think it is, but anyhow it is a symptom of moral slackness.
He was a gentle youth who loved quiet things, quiet places, placid people, kind dogs, books, canaries even, if they did not sing too loud.
...it’s a queer thing how 'fallen’ in the masculine means killed in the war, and in the feminine given over to a particular kind of vice...
...I have to laugh when people are pompous and absurd; my sense of the ridiculous is too strong for me.
Such is life, drama, and another meal.
A woman looks her best with a cat on her knees.
It was slushy under the buses, and although everybody was trying to be cordially hearty, and catch the Christmas spirit, you could see by their faces that nobody felt that much cordial inside them.
Everything, including the most unpropitious articles like tooth paste and purgatives, was labelled "Seasonable gifts" and "Christmas present"
Nothing is so poigniant as the remembered kindness of those who have ceased to be kind.
...[T]he chief obstacle to human happiness was that its first necessities were irreconcilable opposites; to be free and not to be lonely.
I believe a week of steady drizzle in summer is enough to make the stoutest heart depressed.
Books have their idiosyncrasies as well as people, and will not show me their full beauties unless the place and time in which they are read suits them.
What a blessing it is to love books.
[T]he dullest book takes on a certain saving grace if read out of doors