She had been bored all afternoon by Percy Gryce... but she could not ignore him on the morrow, she must follow up her success, must submit to more boredom, must be ready with fresh compliances and adaptibilities, and all on the bare chance that he might ultimately decide to do her the honour of boring her for life.

...and wondering where he had read that clever liars give details, but that the cleverest do not.

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

How I hate everything!

Beware of monotony; it's the mother of all the deadly sins.

She was very near hating him now; yet the sound of his voice, the way the light fell on his thin, dark hair, the way he sat and moved and wore his clothes—she was conscious that even these trivial things were inwoven with her deepest life.

...I have always lived on contrasts! To me the only death is monotony. Beware of monotony; it's the mother of all the deadly sins.