Submit to me." So she said nothing, but looked doggedly and sadly at the shore, wrapped in its mantle of peace; as if the people there had fallen alseep, she thought; were free like smoke, were free to come and go like ghosts. They have no suffering there, she thought.

If the best of one's feelings means nothing to the person most concerned in those feelings, what reality is left us?

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

The mind must be allowed to settle undisturbed over the object in order to secrete the pearl.

... if we can imagine the art of fiction come alive and standing in our midst, she would undoubtedly bid us to break her and bullyher, as well as honour and love her, for so her youth is renewed and her sovereignty assured.

I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.

Arrange whatever pieces come your way.