We are all of us resigned to death: it's life we aren't resigned to.

It was as though our love were a small creature caught in a trap and bleeding to death: I had to shut my eyes and wring its neck.

Unfortunately the innocent are always involved in any conflict. Always, everywhere, there is some voice crying from a tower.

As the end of the what is called the 'sexual life' the only love which has lasted is the love which has everything, every disappointment, every failure and every betrayal, which has accepted even the sad fact that in the end there is no desire so deep as the simple desire for companionship.

They are always saying God loves us. If thats love Id rather have a bit of kindness.

I never knew a man who had better motives for all the trouble he caused.

A ruling passion gives to a shelf of novels the unity of a system.