“You must feed them, Anne, else they eat their toys.”

“Each of us promenades his thought, like a monkey on a leash. When you read, you always have to such monkeys: your own and one belonging to someone else. Or, even worse, a monkey and a hyena. Now, consider what you will feed them. For a hyena does not eat the same things as a monkey...”

“Fetishes…they’re the pet you feed or the beast that eats you. We’ll feed your beast until it’s tamed.”

“At New Year's he had given Anne a present of silver forks with handles of rock crystal. He hopes she will use them to eat with, not to stick in people.”

“None of us ever do," said Mrs. Allan with a sigh. "But then, Anne, you know what Lowell says, 'Not failure but low aim is crime.' We must have ideals and try to live up to them, even if we never quite succeed. Life would be a sorry business without them. With them it's grand and great. Hold fast to your ideals, Anne.”

“Eyes bloodshot, I want to say. Eating a lot of Cheetos. Staring into space. Eating moreCheetos. It must be love. What else could it possibly be?”