The standard dreaming of a society has to be listened to.
A happy childhood can't be cured. Mine'll hang around my neck like a rainbow, that's all, instead of a noose.
Agony without genius was gaucherie.
The novel is rescued life.
Women can't travel light. We're in charge of the basic facts.
But memory, after a time, dispenses its own emphasis, making a feuilleton of what we once thought most ponderable, laying its wreath on what we never thought to recall.