Have all beautiful things sad destinies?

She had left me thirsty and all my life would be thirst and longing for what I had lost before I found it.

I've been so ridiculous all my life that a little bit more or a little bit less hardly matters now.

Something in her brain that still remained calm told her that she was doing a very foolish thing indeed.

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

I often want to cry. That is the only advantage women have over men — at least they can cry.

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