She wondered if, when human souls try to get too near each other, they do not inevitably become mere blurs to each other's vision.

What Lily craved was the darkness made by enfolding arms, the silence which is not solitude, but compassion holding its breath.

It was too late for happiness - but not too late to be helped by the thought of what I had missed. That is all I haved lived on - don't take it from me now

One cares so little for the style in which one's praises are written.

Every house is a mad-house at some time or another.

He simply felt that if he could carry away the vision of the spot of earth she walked on, and the way the sky and sea enclosed it, the rest of the world might seem less empty.

He had known the love that is fed on caresses and feeds them; but this passion that was closer than his bones was not to be superficially satisfied.