This is the worst of love, this unmeant mystification - someone smiling and going out without saying where, or a letter arriving, being read in your presence, put away, not explained, or: 'No, alas, I can't to-night' on the telephone - that, one person having set up without knowing, the other cannot undo without the where? who? why? that brings them both down a peg. Jealousy is no more than feeling alone against smiling enemies.

Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat.

And yet in a way I would rather fail point blank. Things one can do have no value. I don't mind feeling small myself, but I dread finding the world is.

'What's the matter with this country is the matter with the lot of us individually- our sense of personality is a sense of outrage and we'll never get outside …

You aren't very good at determining what other people want and need from you... No one is. We're all as likely to hurt as help.

Never forget what a man says to you when he is angry.

'Don't write anything you can phone. Don't phone anything you can talk. Don't talk anything you can whisper. Don't whisper anything you can smile. Don't smile …