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336 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1936
Every morning a new cobweb of threads was laid down on top of yesterday's pattern.
To-day, she thought, is like a crack in my life. Things are coming up through the crack, and, if I don't look at them, perhaps I shall never see them again. Ordinary life in the new house will begin to-morrow and grow over the crack and seal it up.
He was an ordinary person. But ordinariness, he perceived, was a question of time. The ordinary post-war person would have been a pre-war crank.
You cannot become a whole person by seeing the division, but, if you know where it is, you can sometimes behave like one.
It was the thing that his generation yearned for, wholeness, but wholeness was difficult, the supreme achievement.
You can bring your mind to reason in half an hour, and your feelings not at all, or perhaps, by great courage and skill, in then years.
A tyranny is not all the tyrant's fault; it is the fault of those who submit to be slaves
A relationship is spoiled as soon as you begin to demand more than the other person wants to give.
What you see is so seldom the other person. It is a character in your one novel, in the story of your life that you have foisted upon them, made of the things in your own mind. It is a novelist's character that you have made out of the person, stressing the outlines, omitting inconsistencies, giving coherence, adding emphasis.