Only in a novel are all things given full play.
Let there be an end ... of all this welter of pity, which is only self-pity reflected onto some obvious surface.
[U]nless a woman is held, by man, safe within the bounds of belief, she becomes inevitably a destructive force.
Life is a travelling to the edge of knowledge, then a leap taken.
If I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.
Beauty is an experience, nothing else. It is not a fixed pattern or an arrangement of features. It is something felt, a glow or a communicated sense of fineness.