I have lost friends, some by death...others by sheer inability to cross the street.

There are moments when one can neither think nor feel, she thought, and if one can neithre feel nor think, where's one?

Women alone stir my imagination.

Henry James seems most entirely in his element, doing that is to say what everything favors his doing, when it is a question of recollection. The mellow light which swims over the past, the beauty which suffuses even the commonest little figures of that

She tapped on the window with her embossed hairbrush. They were too far off to hear. The drone of the trees was in their ears; the chirp of birds; other incidents of garden life, inaudible, invisible to her in the bedroom, absorbed them. Isolated on a green island, hedged about with snowdrops, laid with a counterpane of puckered silk, the innocent island floated under her window. Only George lagged behind.

A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.

We must reconcile ourselves to a season of failures and fragments.