“Oh, I wish I lived in a caravan!’ said Jimmy longingly. ‘How lovely it must be to live in a house that has wheels and can go away down the lanes and through the towns, and stand still in fields at night!”

“Still is the night, it quiets the streets down,In that window my love would appear;She's long since gone away from this town,But this house where she lived still remains here.A man stands here too, staring up into space,And wrings his hands with the strength of his pain:It chills me, when I behold his pale faceFor the moon shows me my own features again!You spirit double, you specter with my faceWhy do you mock my love-pain soThat tortured me here, here in this placeSo many nights, so long ago?”

“Oh, how I wish I were a trinity, so if I lost a part of me, I'd still have two of the same to live.”

“The sight of you brings joy to my heart and makes my blood thunder in my veins. I know not how long I will be allowed to stand here. So there are words I must say. That you are the moon and the stars to me, and the air I breathe. To love you is to live. So if I die.... I will still live in you.”

“Leonard Woolf: If I didn't know you better I'd call this ingratitude. Virginia Woolf: I am ungrateful? You call ME ungrateful? My life has been stolen from me. I'm living in a town I have no wish to live in... I'm living a life I have no wish to live... How did this happen?”

“The longer I live here, the better satisfied I am in having pitched my earthly camp-fire, gypsylike, on the edge of a town, keeping it on one side, and the green fields, lanes, and woods on the other. Each, in turn, is to me as a magnet to the needle. At times the needle of my nature points towards the country. On that side everything is poetry. I wander over field and forest, and through me runs a glad current of feeling that is like a clear brook across the meadows of May. At others the needle veers round, and I go to town--to the massed haunts of the highest animal and cannibal.”