They learned no compassion from their own anguish. thus their suffering was wasted.

And that's where the whole trouble is. We're too much alike to understand each other because we don't even understand our own selves.

Some people do crossword puzzles. I do books.

It was the last time she’d see the river from that window. The last time of anything has the poignancy of death itself. This that I see now, she thought, to see no more this way. Oh, the last time how clearly you see everything; as though a magnifying light had been turned on it. And you grieve because you hadn’t held it tighter when you had it every day.

The world was hers for the reading.

I can never give a 'yes' or a 'no.' I don't believe everything in life can be settled by a monosyllable.

Suffering is also good, it makes a person rich in charachter.