We Know So Little About Each Other.

It Is Quite Impossible These Days To Assume Anything About People's Educational Level From The Way They Talk Or Dress Or From Their Taste In Music. Safest To Treat Everyone You Meet As A Distinguished Intellectual.

The Cost Of Oblivius Daydreaming Was Always This Moment Of Return, The Realigment With What Had Been Before And Now Seemed A Little Worse. Her Reverie, Once Rich In Plausible Details, Had Become A Passing Silliness Before The Hard Mass Of The Actual. It Was Difficult To Come Back.

How Can A Novelist Achieve Atonement When, With Her Absolute Power Of Deciding Outcomes, She Is Also God? There Is No One, No Entity Or Higher Form That She Can Appeal To, Or Be Reconciled With, Or That Can Forgive Her. There Is Nothing Outside Her. In Her Imagination She Has Set The Limits And The Terms. No Atonement For God, Or Novelists, Even If They Are Atheists. It Was Always An Impossible Task, And That Was Precisely The Point. The Attempt Was All.

Nothing That Can Be, Can Come Between Me And The Full Prospect Of My Hopes.

And Though You Think The World Is At Your Feet, It Can Rise Up And Tread On You.