Why, why, when one writes, does a sort of shackle bind one's imagination? I become conscious of a deadening mediocrity, perhaps a form of mental cowardice, and I long to break free, to let my imagination take wings. It doesn't… — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
it is the brevity of life which makes it tolerable; its experiences have value because they have an end. — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
You are quite, quite wrong if you think that ... I find your happiness painful. What matters is that happiness - the golden day… — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
Love needs the stiffening of respect, the give and take of equality. — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
Sorrow and frustration have their power. The world is moved by people with great discontents. Happiness is a drug. It can make men blind… — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
There's never been a lack of men willing to die bravely. The trouble is to find a few able to live sensibly. — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
I advise nobody to drown sorrow in cocoa. It is bad for the figure and it does not alleviate the sorrow. — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
What a strange distance there is between ill people and well ones. — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
The crown of life is neither happiness nor annihilation; it is understanding. — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
public work brings a vicarious but assured sense of immortality. We may be poor, weak, timid, in debt to our landlady, bullied by our… — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
I can't think why I was cursed with this inordinate desire to write, if the high gods weren't going to give me some more… — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
If you are rich, you have lovely cars, and jars full of flowers, and books in rows, and a wireless, and the best sort… — Winifred Holtby Copy Share Image
