A dreamer, I walked enchanted, and nothing held me back.

How simple life becomes when things like mirrors are forgotten.

here was a silence between them for a moment, and she wondered if all women, when in love, were torn between two impulses, a longing to throw modesty and reserve to the winds and confess everything, and an equal determination to conceal the love forever, to be cool, aloof, utterly detached, to die rather than admit a thing so personal, so intimate.

This house sheltered us, we spoke, we loved within those walls. That was yesterday. To-day we pass on, we see it no more, and we are different, changed in some infinitesimal way. We can never be quite the same again.

...the routine of life goes on, whatever happens, we do the same things, go through the little performance of eating, sleeping, washing. No crisis can break through the crust of habit.

Why, he wondered, should he remember her suddenly, on such a day, watching the rain falling on the apple trees?

I wondered why it was that places are so much lovelier when one is alone.