I Can Never Think Of You As

Life Would Go Out In A 'fraction Of A Second' (that Was The Phrase), But All Night He Had Been Realizing That Time Depends On Clocks And The Passage Of Light. There Were No Clocks And The Light Wouldn't Change. Nobody Really Knew How Long A Second Of Pain Could Be. It Might Last A Whole Purgatory--or For Ever.

The Argument Of Danger Only Applies To Those Who Live In Relative Safety.

One's Life Is More Formed, I Sometimes Think, By Books Than By Human Beings: It Is Out Of Books One Learns About Love And Pain At Second Hand.

That Instinct For Human Character That Is Perhaps Inherent In An Imaginative Writer.

Childhood Was The Germ Of All Mistrust. You Were Cruelly Joked Upon And Then You Cruelly Joked. You Lost The Remembrance Of Pain Through Inflicting It.