Memories Of Childhood Were The

Does Character Develop Over Time? In Novels, Of Course It Does: Otherwise There Wouldn't Be Much Of A Story. But In Life? I Sometimes Wonder. Our Attitudes And Opinions Change, We Develop New Habits And Eccentricities; But That's Something Different, More Like Decoration. Perhaps Character Resembles Intelligence, Except That Character Peaks A Little Later: Between Twenty And Thirty, Say. And After That, We're Just Stuck With What We've Got. We're On Our Own. If So, That Would Explain A Lot Of Lives, Wouldn't It? And Also - If This Isn't Too Grand A Word - Our Tragedy.

History Is The Lies Of The Victors.

This Was Another Of Our Fears: That Life Wouldn't Turn Out To Be Like Literature.

Perhaps Love Is Essential Because It's Unnecessary.

And That's A Life, Isn't It? Some Achievements And Some Disappointments. It's Been Interesting To Me, Though I Wouldn't Complain Or Be Amazed If Others Found It Less So. Maybe, In A Way, Adrian Knew What He Was Doing. Not That I Would Have Missed My Own Life For Anything, You Understand. [pp.60-61]