Well, we all three loved and comforted each other. We were poorish and lonely and awkward together.
He suffers terribly all the time. He lives in fire.
I took him for a kind of buffoon. Now I see he is a devil.
And do stop sneezing. It annoys me so much when people sneeze.
People have disappointed me and deceived me and let me down.
And I thought, rolling my head to and fro between my hands in anguish, oh if only it could have worked somehow for us two.
So, in a curious lurid calm which could not last and yet, it seemed, could not end, the days went by.
We shall meet, but as strangers. It is the end of an era. A whole part of my life is torn away.
Yet on the other hand, I did manage to write, and without more than occasional repining, during my years of bondage, and I would not, as some unsatisfied writers do, blame my lack of productivity upon my lack of time.
This figure, which I had so vaguely, idly, noticed before was now utterly changed in my eyes. The whole world was its background. And between me and it there hovered, perhaps for the last time, the vision of a slim long-legged girl with gleaming thighs. I ran.
He looked so sad. I never saw him look sad before, he was always so superior, everywhere the king. You once called him a god from elsewhere who had lost his way.
It might be most dramatically effective to begin the tale at the moment when Arnold Baffin rang me up and said, “Bradley, could you come round here please, I think I have just killed my wife.
Everything in his life now seemed to signal: too late.
While the light remains,′ said Carde, speaking slowly in his high deliberate voice, ’only do not forsake the joy of life. If you shall have given all your kisses, you will give too few. And as leaves fall from withered wreaths which you may see spread upon the cups and floating there, so for us, who now as lovers hope for so much, perhaps tomorrow’s day will close the doom.
But I can’t do anything for him and he can’t do anything for me. We must wail in our own corners.
You can’t magic yourself out of the situation, you’ve got to live it as decently and as grimly as you can.
Oh what an ill fate it was that has made me love that man.
He dreamt... he was a huge white egg floating in the sea of turquoise blue, and he was everything that there was.
I have always attributed a great importance to eyes. How mysteriously expressive those damp orbs can be; the eyeball does not change and yet it is the window of the soul. And colour in eyes is, in its nature and inherence, quite unlike colour in any other substance. Mr Osmand had grey eyes, but his eyes were hard and speckled like Aberdeen granite, while Tommy’s were clear and empty like light smoke.
I know girls aren’t supposed to tell, but I’ve got to tell – just in case you should fail to love me because you never knew how much I loved you. I want not to have to say later – I wish I’d told him.