Like Some Wines Our Love

That Instinct For Human Character That Is Perhaps Inherent In An Imaginative Writer.

For An Artist To Think In Terms Of Success Is Like A Priest Trying To Think In Terms Of Success.

Friendship Is Something In The Soul. It Is A Thing One Feels. It Is Not A Return For Something.

He Was Impregnably Armored By His Good Intentions And His Ignorance.

Oh, She Doesn't Belong To Anybody Now,' He Said, And Suddenly I Saw Her For What She Was - A Piece Of Refuse Waiting To Be Cleared Away: If You Needed A Bit Of Hair You Could Take It, Or Trim Her Nails If Nail Trimmings Had Value To You. Like A Saint's Her Bones Could Be Divided Up - If Anybody Required Them. She Was Going To Be Burnt Soon, So Why Shouldn't Everybody Have What He Wanted First? What A Fool I Had Been During Three Years To Imagine That In Any Way I Had Possessed Her. We Are All Possessed By Nobody, Not Even By Ourselves.