She had always lived her best life in dreams. She knew no greater pleasure than that moment of passage into the other place, when her limbs grew warm….

'Love is a myth,' Grandfather Trout said. 'Like summer.' 'What?' 'In winter,' Grandfather Trout said, 'summer is a myth. A report, a rumor. Not to ….

Violet said nothing, though big pearly tears, like a child's, trembled at her lashes. She suddenly missed John very much. Into him she could pour all….

Just as a lamp waved in darkness creates a figure of light in the air, which remains for as long as the lamp repeats its motion exactly, so the unive….

Learning to decipher words had only added to the pleasures of holding spines and turning pages, measuring the journey to the end with a thumb-riffle,….

Stories last longer: but only by becoming only stories..

It was anyway all a long time ago; the world, we know now, is as it is and not different; if there was ever a time when there were passages, doors, t….

The further in you go, the bigger it gets..

Seeing a woman's child is like seeing a woman naked, in the way it changes how her face looks to you, how her face becomes less the whole story..

First, she wanted to taste the sweat that shone on his throat and fragile clavicle; then he chose to undo the tails of her shirt, that she had tied u….

There was after all no mystery in the end of love, no mystery but the mystery of love itself, which was large certainly but as real as grass, as natu….

Well, do you do that consciously?" Daily Alice asked, only partly of Cloud. "Do what?" Cloud said. "Grow up? No. Well. In a sense. You see it's inevi….

God, he thought, her eyes are so bright, flashing, deep, full of promise, all those things eyes are in books but never are in life, and she was his..

The things that make us happy make us wise..