No, No, There Must Be A Limit

To Know One's Own Limitations Is The Hallmark Of Competence.

Philip Wasn't The Sort Of Man To Make A Friend Of A Woman. He Wanted Devotion. I Gave Him That. I Did, You Know. But I Couldn't Stand Being Made A Fool Of. I Couldn;t Stand Being Put On Probation, Like An Office-boy, To See If I Was Good Enough To Be Condescended To. I Quite Thought He Was Honest When He Said He Didn't Believe In Marriage -- And Then It Turned Out That It Was A Test, To See Whether My Devotion Was Abject Enough. Well, It Wasn't. I Didn't Like Having Matrimony Offered As A Bad-conduct Prize.

But Suppose One Doesn't Quite Know Which One Wants To Put First. Suppose," Said Harriet, Falling Back On Words Which Were Not Her Own, "suppose One Is Cursed With Both A Heart And A Brain?" "you Can Usually Tell," Said Miss De Vine, "by Seeing What Kind Of Mistakes You Make. I'm Quite Sure That One Never Makes Fundamental Mistakes About The Thing One Really Wants To Do. Fundamental Mistakes Arise Out Of Lack Of Genuine Interest. In My Opinion, That Is.

Detective Stories Keep Alive A View Of The World Which Ought To Be True. Of Course People Read Them For Fun ... But Underneath They Feed A Hunger For Justice ... You Offer To Divert Them, And You Show Them By Stealth The Orderly World In Which We Should All Try To Be Living.

Paradoxical As It May Seem, To Believe In Youth Is To Look Backward; To Look Forward We Must Believe In Age.