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The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as w...more

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Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.

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Freedom and fullness of expression are of the essence of the art.

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Septimus has been working too hard" - that was all she could say to her own mother. To love makes one solitary, she thought.

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She would not say of any one in the world that they were this or were that. She felt very young; at the same time unspeakably aged. She sliced like a ...more

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What she liked was simply life. "That's what i did it for," she said, speaking aloud to life... Could any man understand what she meant, either, about...more

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. . . clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude.

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To admit authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read, what value to place upon w...more

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The only advice, indeed, that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to...more

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Alone, I often fall down into nothingness. I must push my foot stealthily lest I should fall off the edge of the world into nothingness. I have to ban...more