“she knew that for her the greatest sin now and in the future was to delude herself. It had been a long lesson but she had learned it. Either you think--or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you.”

“She had somehow given over the thinking to him, and in his absences her every action seemed automatically governed by what he would like, so that now she felt inadequate to match her intentions against his. Yet think she must; she knew at last the number on the dreadful door of fantasy, the threshold to the escape that was no escape; she knew that for her greatest sin now and in the future was to delude herself. It had been a long lesson but she had learned it. Either you think—or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you.”

“Either you think--or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you.”

“You're a rotten driver,' I protested. 'Either you ought to be more careful or you oughtn't to drive at all.''I am careful.''No, you're not.''Well, other people are,' she said lightly.'What's that got to do with it?''They'll keep out of my way,' she insisted. 'It takes two to make an accident.''Suppose you met somebody just as careless as yourself.''I hope I never will,' she answered. 'I hate careless people. That's why I like you.'Her grey, sun-strained eyes stared straight ahead, but she had deliberately shifted our relations, and for a moment I thought I loved her.”

“How do you do, Captain,” she said, unfastening her eyes from his with difficulty, as though they had become entangled.”

“She was incomprehensible, for, in her, soul and spirit were one - the beauty of her body was the essence of her soul. She was that unity sought for by philosophers through many centuries. In this outdoor waiting room of winds and stars she had been sitting for a hundred years, at peace in the contemplation of herself.”

“Fifteen years of yes's had beaten Mrs. Gilbert. Fifteen further years of that incessant unaffirmative affirmative, accompanied by the perpetual flicking of ash-mushrooms from thirty-two thousand cigars, had broken her. To this husband of hers she made the last concession of married life, which is more complete, more irrevocable, than the first—she listened to him. She told herself that the years had brought her tolerance—actually they had slain what measure she had ever possessed of moral courage.”