The eyes of others our prisons; the thoughts of others our cages. — “An Unwritten Novel”

… I want to think quietly, calmly, spaciously, never to be interrupted, never to have to rise from my chair, to slip easily from one thing to another, without any sense of hostility, or obstacle. I want to sink deeper and deeper, away from the surface, with its hard separate facts. — “The Mark on the Wall”

‘Good books?’ she said, looking at the ceiling. ‘You must remember,’ she began, speaking with extreme rapidity, ‘that fiction is the mirror of life’… ‘Well, tell us the truth,’ we bade her… ‘Oh, the truth,’ she stammered, ‘the truth has nothing to do with literature,’ and sitting down she refused to say another word. It all seemed to us very inconclusive. — “A Society”