Jealousy ... survives every other passion of mankind.

On the outskirts of every agony sits some observant fellow who points.

... the random talk of people who have no chance of immortality and thus can speak their minds out has a setting, often, of lights, streets, houses, human beings, beautiful or grotesque, which will weave itself into the moment for ever.

Our friends - how distant, how mute, how seldom visited and little known. And I, too, am dim to my friends and unknown; a phantom, sometimes seen, often not. Life is a dream surely.

So that is marriage, Lily thought, a man and a woman looking at a girl throwing a ball

Among the tortures and devestations of life is this then - our friends are not able to finish their stories.

For such will be our ruin if you, in the immensity of your public abstractions, forget the private figure, or if we in the intensity of our private emotions forget the public world. Both houses will be ruined, the public and the private, the material and the spiritual, for they are inseparably connected.