'...A diaryㅡeven a cruelly honest diary一is a kind of home-made lover. In the pretender's diary, though he may not be justified, he is always forgiven; though he may not be admirable, he is always visible. His diary cedes to him the right to reign unchallenged in his corner. His corner has a sufficient population―a population of One. That One may be admittedly a poor thing, but at least it is undespised一a real thing, withdrawn from a crowd of ghosts. The ghosts that pass the diarist's corner cannot shake his courage; he looks at them, but they cannot look at him; he is revenged upon smilers behind the hand, upon the cruel queer crowds outside; his accusers are gagged at last.'
from Sitting in Corners, a piece in Worlds within Worlds by Stella Benson
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