A Letter Is A Barrier,

Every Human Soul Has Seen, Perhaps Before Their Birth, Pure Forms Such As Justice, Temperance, Beauty And All The Great Moral Qualities Which We Hold In Honour. We Are Moved Towards What Is Good By The Faint Memory Of These Forms, Simple And Calm And Blessed, Which We Saw Once In A Pure, Clear Light, Being Pure Ourselves.

The Sin Of Pride May Be A Small Or A Great Thing In Someone's Life, And Hurt Vanity A Passing Pinprick, Or A Self-destroying Or Ever Murderous Obsession.

A Bad Review Is Even Less Important Than Whether It Is Raining In Patagonia.

Being In Love Is An Exhausting Business.

The Human Soul Is Not Framed For Continued Proximity, And The Result Of This Enforced Neighbourhood Is Often An Appalling Loneliness For Which The Rules Of The Game Forbid Assuagement.