traditions that have lost their meaning are the hardest of all to destroy.

Only the fact that we are unaware how well our nearest know us enables us to live with them.

Life's just a perpetual piecing together of broken bits.

Yes, one gets over things. But there are certain memories one can't bit on.

He had to deal all at once with the packed regrets and stifled memories of an inarticulate lifetime.

The real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend!

We live in our own souls as in an unmapped region, a few acres of which we have cleared for our habitation; while of the nature of those nearest us we know but the boundaries that march with ours.