Everything about her was warm and soft and scented; even the stains of her grief became her as raindrops do the beaten rose.

They are all alike you know. They hold their tongues for years and you think you're safe, but when the opportunity comes they remember everything.

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

Everybody who does anything at all does too much.

..but it seemed to him that the tie between husband and wife, if breakable in prosperity, should be indissoluble in misfortune.

She was so evidently the victim of the civilization which had produced her, that the links of her bracelet seemed like manacles chaining her to her fate.

True originality consists not in a new manner but in a new vision.