With Blinded Eyes I Stared At The

Mirrors Are There When We Are And Yet They Never Give Anything Back To Us But Our Own Image. Never, Never Shall We Know What They Are When They Are Alone Or What Is Behind Them.

Modesty And Conscientiousness Receive Their Reward Only In Novels. In Life They Are Exploited And Then Shoved Aside.

I, Too, Am Going To Go Away Soon,' She Says, 'i Am Weary And Weary Of My Weariness. Everything Is Beginning To Be A Little Empty And Full Of Leave-taking And Melancholy And Waiting.

One Often Feels As Though Something Had Happened Before, I Remember. It Comes Quite Close To You And Stands There And You Know It Was Just This Way Once Before, Exactly So; For An Instant You Almost Know How It Must Go On, But Then It Disappears As You Try To Lay Hold Of It Like Smoke Or A Dead Memory. "we Could Never Remember, Isabelle," I Say. "it's Like The Rain. That Has Also Become One, Out Of Two Gasses, Oxygen And Hydrogen, Which No Longer Remember They Were Once Gasses. Now They Are Only Rain And Have No Memory Of An Earlier Time.

The Idea Of Authority, Which They Represented, Was Associated In Our Minds With A Greater Insight And A More Humane Wisdom.