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The indictment of a social system lay in those drawers if they all but knew it - a system which overworks eight-tenths of its female population, and gives the remaining two-tenths so little to do that they must clutter the world with useless objects.

For Mrs. Huggins was a constant sufferer in the same way in which some women are constant readers.
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In her hard, rich, varied, unconquered life, his friendship for her was one of her most treasured experiences.

She loved him so much that to scold him was a sensuous pleasure to her.

Below the magic of Shakespeare's uncomprehended words, the wood near Athens, the silvery sweetness of Mendelssohn from the wireless, the benign warmth of the afternoon sun on her arms and shoulders, below all these pleasant pleasures lay the lovely glowing assurance of future joy.

I stood for a moment remembering the Captain, his charm, his gallantry with the ladies, his gentleness, but above all I remembered how he was going to draw, play his flute, and lie in bed with his beloved wife and watch the seagulls go past their bedroom window. I decided that retirement was something you should take a little bit of every day, like a tonic, for you never knew what awaited you around the corner.

'I shall practice my calligraphy,' he said softly, and it was almost as if he were hypnotized by the thought. 'My calligraphy needs attention. I shall paint and I shall play the flute and try to make up to my wife for her years of loneliness. You understand, I do none of these things well - except perhaps the last - but I enjoy trying. They give me pleasure, even if badly done, and I think pleasure sooths the mind.'

'I shall practice my calligraphy,' he said softly, and it was almost as if he were hypnotized by the thought. 'My calligraphy needs attention. I shall paint and I shall play the flute and try to make up to my wife for her years of loneliness. You understand, I do none of these things well - except perhaps the last - but I enjoy trying. They give me pleasure, even if badly done, and I think pleasure sooths the mind.'

What do you do when everything falls apart? You gather up the people you love and the few things you hold dear, and all the rest? You let it fall away.

I knew in those moments two things: the purest contentment, and that I would kill anyone who hurt these people. The things you go on discovering about yourself are interesting, I think, if you care to look at them directly. I've known for years that there was a murderer hiding within me, and somehow I'd gone on living, and often laughed

Life doesn't always happen in big shocks, in falling towers or tsunamis or epidemics, but something loud can make you notice the whittling things already happening.

The houses were painted as pretty as playhouses and left me stranded between many feelings: at this moment the mystery of civic pride persisting when the world seemed to be falling apart. The truth is mostly irreconcilable with everyday life.

In those days I thought lightweight, light-hearted things were unimportant. Some years later I though they held the world together. Things like comfort, pleasantness & sufficiency were reliable & constant, whereas love (& hate & retribution)complicated everything. I was wrong about that too. It is merely that all these things exist as the world does, as people do, each as implacable & destructive as any violent storm

The past is here all the time, running alongside the present, their currents flowing, connecting here and there, warm above and cold below, or fast and slow alongside each other, that sort of thing. Sometimes I'm touching both at the exact same time.