Darling Daddy, This is Rose. The shed needs new wires now it has blown up. Caddy is bringing home rock-bottom boyfriends to see if they will do for Mummy. Instead of you. Love, Rose.

The house had a name. The Banana House. It was carved onto a piece of sandstone above the front door. It made no sense to anyone.

She'll soon forget." "Caddy," said Saffron impatiently, "she is headmistress of the private school! She's probably never forgotten anything in her whole life!

Don't call me darling. I'm a driving instructor!

He likes driving very fast on the wrong side of the road," said Sarah. "Which I can completely understand.

I can only drive slowly.""That's all right.""And I can only do left turns."Rose ran downstairs, grabbed a road atlas, and ran triumphantly back up again. "Wales is left! Look! It's left all the way!

Oh, Micheal darling!""Don't call me darling, I'm a driving instructor!

She'll soon forget.""Caddy, " said Saffron impatiently, "she is headmistress of the private school! She's probably never forgotten anything in her whole life!

Very helpful, I must say. Look at them in the eye and shout, and they understand every word..." (Mr. Warbeck in Sienna, talking about local Italians.)

Darling Daddy, This is Rose.The shed needs new wires now it has blown up.Caddy is bringing home rock-bottom boyfriends to see if they will do for Mummy. Instead of you.Love, Rose.

The strongest of us are those that are spiritually strong, and a spiritual warrior is one of vulnerability.

... my mother and father ... raised nine of us and taught each to do our best ... We tried.

It is well to be off with the old woman before you're on with the new.

The way in which you endure that which you must endure is more important than the crisis itself.

We don't have a monopoly. Anyone who wants to dig a well without a Hughes bit can always use a pick and shovel.

The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below

Deep in the darkness of passions insanity, I felt taken by lust's strange inhumanity.

Most writers are trying to find what they think or feel. . . not simply working from the given, but toward the given, saying the unsayable and steadily asking, "What do I really feel about this?

It is a part of the nature of man to resist compulsion.

When you hear buzz around the beehive, you know they're making honey in there.