Her life was a tissue of vanity and deceit.

But what is more to the point is my belief that the habit of writing thus for my own eye only is good practice. It loosens the ligaments. Never mind the misses and the stumbles.

But I don't think of the future, or the past, I feast on the moment. This is the secret of happiness, but only reached now in middle age.

When the body escaped mutilation, seldom did the heart go to the grave unscarred.

Love ought to stop on both sides, don’t you think, simultaneously?’ He spoke without any stress on the words, so as not to wake the sleepers. ‘But it won’t - that’s the devil,’ he added in the same undertone.

Why, he wondered, did people who had been asleep always want to make out that they were extremely wide-awake?

It is no use trying to sum people up. One must follow hints, not exactly what is said, nor yet entirely what is done.