Oh, it is wonderful to wake up in the morning with things to look forward to!
Perhaps he finds beauty saddening---I do myself sometimes. Once when I was quite little I asked father why this was and he explained that it was due to our knowledge of beauty's evanescence, which reminds us that we ourselves shall die.
What is it about the English countryside---why is the beauty so much more than visual? Why does it touch one so?
My imagination longs to dash ahead and plan developments; but I have noticed that when things happen in one's imagination, they never happen in one's life.
...[P]erhaps it is the loving that counts, not the being loved in return---that perhaps true loving can never know anything but happiness.
When I imagine changing places with her I get the feeling I do on finishing a novel with a brick-wall happy ending---I mean the kind of ending when you never think any more about the characters.
There was a wonderful atmosphere of gentle age, a smell of flowers and beeswax, sweet yet faintly sour and musty; a smell that makes you feel very tender towards the past.
And who says you always have to understand things? You can like them without understanding them -- like 'em better sometimes.
When I read a book, I put in all the imagination I can, so that it is almost like writing the book as well as reading it - or rather, it is like living it. It makes reading so much more exciting
Quand je lis un livre, j'y mets toute mon imagination, de sorte qu'en ce sens la lecture ressemble un peu à l'écriture; ou plutôt c'est comme si je vivais ce que je lisais
