Still, life had a way of adding day to day
what she loved: life, London, this moment of june.
But I think I’m coloured by my own wishes, & experimental mood.
I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life.
A million candles burnt in him without his being at the trouble of lighting a single one
And it was awfully strange, he thought, how she still had the power, as she came tinkling, rustling, still had the power as she came across the room, to make the moon, which he detested, rise at Bourton on the terrace in the summer sky.