...our Impulses Are Too Strong

The Sky Was Clear - Remarkably Clear - And The Twinkling Of All The Stars Seemed To Be But Throbs Of One Body, Timed By A Common Pulse.

The Business Of The Poet And The Novelist Is To Show The Sorriness Underlying The Grandest Things And The Grandeur Underlying The Sorriest Things.

Sometimes I Shrink From Your Knowing What I Have Felt For You, And Sometimes I Am Distressed That All Of It You Will Never Know.

A Novel Is An Impression, Not An Argument; And There The Matter Must Rest.

We Learn That It Is Not The Rays Which Bodies Absorb, But Those Which They Reject, That Give Them The Colours They Are Known By; And In The Same Way People Are Specialized By Their Dislikes And Antagonisms, Whilst Their Goodwill Is Looked Upon As No Attribute At All.