Time didn't heal, but it anesthetized. The human mind could only feel so much.

A picnic may well be a metaphor for life. The essentials for happiness are the right company, moderate if sanguine expectations and a reasonable standard of physical sustenance and comfort, the whole being bedeviled by the belief that there is always something better to be had if only one presses on.

What was so terrible about grief was not grief itself, but that one got over it.

In 1930s mysteries, all sorts of motives were credible which aren't credible today, especially motives of preventing guilty sexual secrets from coming out. Nowadays, people sell their guilty sexual secrets.

I don't want anyone to look to me, not for protection, not for happiness, not for love, not for anything.

But what do you believe? I don't just mean religion. What are you sure of?" "That once I was not and that now I am. That one day I shall no longer be.

The equally is a political theory, but no a practical politics.