Any novel of importance has a purpose. If only the "purpose" be large enough, and not at outs with the passional inspiration.

She let him come further, his lips came and surging, surging, soft, oh soft, yet on, like the powerful surge of water, irresistible, till with a little blind cry, she broke away.

There's always the hyena of morality at the garden gate, and the real wolf at the end of the street.

Brave people add up to an aristocracy. The democracy of thou-shalt-not is bound to be a collection of weak men.

What you intuitively desire, that is possible to you.

I should like [people] to like the purely individual thing in themselves, which makes them act in singleness. and They only like to do the collective thing.

One never can know the whys and the wherefores of one's passional changes.