Life Is A Succession Of

Dialogue In Fiction Is What Characters Do To One Another.

Only In A House Where One Has Learnt To Be Lonely Does One Have This Solicitude For Things. One's Relation To Them, The Daily Seeing Or Touching, Begins To Become Love, And To Lay One Open To Pain.

Dogs Are A Habit, I Think.

The Paradox Of Romantic Love -- That What One Possesses, One Can No Longer Desire -- Was At Work.

It Is Not Our Exalted Feelings, It Is Our Sentiments That Build The Necessary Home.