Do the hardest thing on earth for you. ACT YOURSELF..

As in the physical world, so in the spiritual world, pain does not last forever..

What happiness it is to listen to rain at night; joyful relief, ease; a lapping-round and hushing and brooding tenderness, all are mingled together i….

Why it should be such an effort to write to the people one loves I can't imagine. It's none at all to write to those who don't really count..

conversation is like a dear little baby that is brought in to be handed round. You must rock it, nurse it, keep it on the move if you want it to keep….

I must say, I hate money. But it's the lack of it I hate most..

The whole world shall be ours because of our love..

I feel I must live alone, alone, alone - with artists only to touch the door. Every artist cuts off his ear and nails it on the outside of the door f….

roses are the only flowers at garden-parties; the only flowers that everybody is certain of knowing..

No, no the mind I love must still have wild places - a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown litde wood, the chanc….

All the wild sweetness of the flower Tangled against the wall. It was that magic, silent hour.... The branches grew so tall They twined themselve….

Now's the time when children's noses All become as red as roses And the colour of their faces Makes me think of orchard places Where the juicy ap….

September is different from all other months. It is more magical. I feel the strange chemical change in the earth which produces mushrooms is the cau….

If only one could tell true love from false love as one can tell mushrooms from toadstools..

Courage is like a disobedient dog, once it starts running away it flies all the faster for your attempts to recall it..

... I'd always rather be with people who loved me too little rather than with people who loved me too much..

Better to write twaddle, anything, than nothing at all..

I don't believe other people are ever as foolishly excited as I am while I'm working. How could they be? Writers would have to live in trees..

Who is to decide between 'Let it be' and 'Force it'?.

The fields are snowbound no longer; There are little blue lakes and flags of tenderest green. The snow has been caught up into the sky- So many wh….

It is strange that there are times when I feel the stars are not at all solemn: they are secretly gay..