“It was strange how easy being tired enough made it.”

“For this, that now was coming, he had very little curiosity. For years it had obseessed him; but now it meant nothing in itself. It was strange how easy being tired enough made it.Now he would never write the things he had saved to write, until he knew enough to write them well”

“And bed, he thought. Bed is my friend. Just bed, he thought. Bed will be a great thing. It is easy when you are beaten, he thought. I never knew how easy it was. And what beat you, the thought.”

“How every one he had slept with had only made him miss her more”

“If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about, he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water”

“I would like to bear thy son and hy daughter," she told hime. "And how can the world be made better if there are no children of us who fight against the fascists?”

“Everybody has strange things that mean things to them. You couldn't help it.”