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.

The problem of pretending to be alive.

Lust is not the worst thing. It is because any day, any time, lust may turn into love that we have to avoid it. And when we love our sin then we are damned indeed.

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

It is impossible to go through life without trust: that is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself.

Despair is the price one pays for setting himself an impossible aim.

So much of life [is] a putting-off of unhappiness for another time. Nothing [is] ever lost by delay.