But with every word she was drawing further and further into herself, so he gave that up, and only the dead dream fought on as the afternoon slipped away, trying to touch what was no longer tangible, struggling unhappily, undespairingly, toward that lost voice across the room.

Intermittently she caught the gist of his sentences and supplied the rest from her subconscious, as one picks up the striking of a clock in the middle with only the rhythm of the first uncounted strokes lingering in the mind.

i'm in a muddle about a lot of things -- i've just discovered that i've a mind, and i'm starting to read" "read what?" "everything. i have to pick and choose, of course, but mostly things that make me think.

It takes two to make an accident.

Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues.

The helpless ecstasy of loosing himself in her charm was a powerful opiate rather than a tonic.

I see you're looking at my cuff buttons." I hadn't been looking at them, but I did now.