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I think I hate snow, downright hate it. There is something stupefying in it, a kind of 'You must be worse before you're better,' and down it spins.

Katherine Mansfield

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Katherine Mansfield
Age: 34 †
Born: 1888
Born: October 14
Died: 1923
Died: January 9
Diarist
Poet
Writer
Wellington
New Zealand
Katherine Mansfield Beauchamp Murry
Kathleen Murry
Katherine Beauchamp Mansfield
Kathleen Mansfield Murry
Something
Downright
Think
Snow
Thinking
Winter
Worse
Hate
Better
Must
Stupefying
Kind
Spins

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There are in life as many aspects as attitudes towards it, and aspects change with attitudes.
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The mind I love must have wild places.
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Tidied all my papers. Tore up and ruthlessly destroyed much. This is always a great satisfaction.
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I don't believe other people are ever as foolishly excited as I am while I'm working. How could they be? Writers would have to live in trees.
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What happiness it is to listen to rain at night joyful relief, ease a lapping-round and hushing and brooding tenderness, all are mingled together in the sound of the fast-falling rain. God, looking down upon the rainy earth, sees how faint are these lights shining in little windows, - how easily put out.
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I adore Life. What do all the fools matter and all the stupidity. They do matter but somehow for me they cannot touch the body of Life. Life is marvellous. I want to be deeply rooted in it - to live - to expand - to breathe in it - to rejoice - to share it. To give and to be asked for Love.
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England is merely an island of beef swimming in a warm gulf stream of gravy.
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No, no the mind I love must still have wild places - a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown litde wood, the chance of a snake or two (real snakes), a pool that nobody's fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with those litde flowers planted by the wind.
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I love the night. I love to feel the tide of darkness rising, slowly and slowly washing, turning over and over, lifting, floating, all that lies strewn upon the dark beach, all that lies hid in rocky hollows.
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To be alive and to be a ‘writer’ is enough.
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If you wish to live, you must first attend your own funeral.
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What I feel for you can’t be conveyed in phrasal combinations It either screams out loud or stays painfully silent but I promise — it beats words. It beats worlds. I promise
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You have never been curious about me you never wanted to explore my soul.
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What do you want most to do? That's what I have to keep asking myself, in the face of difficulties.
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To work - to work! It is such infinite delight to know that we still have the best things to do.
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Could we change our attitude, we should not only see life differently, but life itself would come to be different.
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That's all life is - something childish and very natural. Isn't it?
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The pleasure of all reading is doubled when one lives with another who shares the same books.
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In the woods where snow is thick, bars of sunlight lay like pale fire.
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Perhaps it does not matter so very much what it is one loves in this world. But love something one must.
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