Doing Nothing, Badly.

You Cannot Control What You Love--you Watch It Driving Recklessly Towards The Broken Bridge, The Torn-up Track, The Horror Of Seventy Years Ahead.

Morality Comes With The Sad Wisdom Of Age, When The Sense Of Curiosity Has Withered.

He Was Impregnably Armored By His Good Intentions And His Ignorance.

Against The Beautiful And The Clever And The Successful, One Can Wage A Pitiless War, But Not Against The Unattractive: Then The Millstone Weighs On The Breast.

It Seemed To Scobie That Life Was Immeasurably Long. Couldn’t The Test Of Man Have Been Carried Out In Fewer Years? Couldn’t We Have Committed Our First Major Sin At Seven, Have Ruined Ourselves For Love Or Hate At Ten, Have Clutched At Redemption On A Fifteen-year-old Deathbed?