But they never last, the golden days. And it can be sad, the sun in the afternoon, can't it? Yes, it can be sad, the afternoon sun, sad and frightening.

Even the one moment that you thought was your eternity fades out and is forgotten and dies.

It is strange how sad it can be - sunlight in the afternoon, don't you think?

Yes, I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness, sad as an eagle without wings, sad as a violin with only one string and that one broken, sad as a woman who is growing old. Sad, sad, sad.

Not that she objected to solitude. Quite the contrary. She had books, thank Heaven, quantities of books. All sorts of books.

He had discovered that people who allow themselves to be blown about by the winds of emotion and impulse are always unhappy people.

You can pretend for a long time, but one day it all falls away and you are alone. We are alone in the most beautiful place in the world.