If truth is not acceptable, it becomes the imagination of others.
They walked on rather aimlessly. He hoped she wouldn’t notice he was touched, because he wouldn’t have known how to explain why. Here lay the great discrepancy between aesthetic truth and sleazy reality.
Mrs. Trotter made a sincere though wrong sound, while opening her handbag to look for help.
His legend will be written down, eventually, by those who are troubled by it.
But the purpose and nature are never clearly revealed. Human behaviour is a series of lunges, of which, it is sometimes sensed, the direction is inevitable.
As it is I’m a dated novelist, whom hardly anybody reads, or if they do, most of them don’t understand what I am on about. Certainly I wish I had never written Voss, which is going to be everybody’s albatross.
And the cavern of fire was enormous, labyrinthine, that received the man. He branched and flamed, glowed and increased, and was suddenly extinguished in the little puffs of smoke and tired thoughts.
In general,’ Voss replied, ‘it is necessary to communicate without knowledge of the language.
At times his arrogance did resolve itself into simplicity, though it was difficult, especially for strangers, to distinguish these occasions.
I forget what I was taught. I only remember what I have learnt.