Disappointment tears the bearable film off life.
What I have found is, anything one keeps hidden should now and then be hidden somewhere else.
Nobody can be kinder than the narcissist while you react to life in his own terms.
The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We really have no absent friends. The friend becomes a traitor by breaking, however unwillingly or sadly, out of our own zone: a hard judgment is passed on him, for all the pleas of the heart.
Art, at any rate in a novel, must be indissolubly linked with craft.
In big houses in which things are done properly, there is always the religious element. The diurnal cycle is observed with more feeling when there are servants to do the work.