Art is a kind of artificial memory and the pain which attends all serious art is a sense of that factitiousness.
Iris Murdoch... he felt himself to be one of them, who can live neither in the world nor out of it. They are a kind of sick people, whose desire for God makes them unsatisfactory citizens of an ordinary life, but whose strength or temperament fails them to surrender the world completely; and present-day society, with its hurried pace and its mechanical and technical structure, offers no home to these unhappy souls.
Iris MurdochLove is the perception of individuals. Love is the extremely difficult realisation that something other than oneself is real.
Iris Murdoch