For of a truth, pain is the Lord of this world, nor is there anyone who escapes from its net.
It is the uncertainty that charms one. A mist makes things wonderful.
But Lady Brandon treats her guests exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods.
Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons. We can only record its moods, and chronicle their return. With us time itself does not progress. It revolves. It seems to circle round one centre of pain.
You are a sceptic." "Never! Scepticism is the beginning of faith." "What are you?" "To define is to limit.
Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?