But his dreams were as gigantic as his surroundings were small.

We colour and mould according to the wants within us whatever our eyes bring in.

Meanwhile, the trees were just as green as before; the birds sang and the sun shone as clearly now as ever. The familiar surroundings had not darkened because of her grief, nor sickened because of her pain. She might have seen that what had bowed her head so profoundly -the thought of the world's concern at her situation- was found on an illusion. She was not an existence, an experience, a passion, a structure of sensations, to anybody but herself.

It was still early, and the sun's lower limb was just free of the hill, his rays, ungenial and peering, addressed the eye rather than the touch as yet.

Do you know that I have undergone three quarters of this labour entirely for the sake of the fourth quarter?

A novel is an impression, not an argument; and there the matter must rest.

Women accept their destiny more readily than men.