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

The desire for symmetry, for balance, for rhythm in form as well as in sound, is one of the most inveterate of human instincts.

You thought I was a lovelorn mistress; and I was only an expensive prostitute.

I am secretly afraid of animals.... I think it is because of the usness in their eyes, with the underlying not-usness which beliesit, and is so tragic a reminder of the lost age when we human beings branched off and left them: left them to eternal inarticulateness and slavery. Why? their eyes seem to ask us.

Almost everybody in the neighborhood had troubles, frankly localized and specified; but only the chosen had complications. To have them was in itself a distinction, though it was also, in most cases, a death warrant. People struggled on for years wit

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

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