I have seen the West End, the parks, the fine squares; but I love the City far better . . . The City is getting its living – the West End but enjoying its pleasure. At the West End you may be amused; but in the City you are deeply excited.
Like the majority of London people, she occupied a house of which the rent absurdly exceeded the due proportion of her income, a pleasant foible turned to such good account by London landlords.
London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow / At once is deaf and loud, and on the shore / Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more. / Yet in its depths what treasures!
It really is an insane city . . . its intelligentsia is so hurried in the head that nothing stays there; its glamour smells of goat; there’s no difference between good and bad.