Sometimes the Earth trembles; sometimes you can feel it breathe.

The musty smell, the bugs, the lonliness, this room, which is part of the street outside-this is all I want from life.

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

She could give herself up to the written word as naturally as a good dancer to music or a fine swimmer to water. The only difficulty was that after finishing the last sentence she was left with a feeling at once hollow and uncomfortably full. Exactly like indigestion.

...I know all about myself now, I know. You've told me so often. You haven't left me one rag of illusion to clothe myself in.

Soon he'll come in again and kiss me, but differently. He'll be different and so I'll be different. It'll be different. I thought, 'It'll be different, different. It must be different.

And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?