The battle was over. Our casualties were some thirteen thousand killed--thirteen thousand minds, memories… — John Fowles

There are people who have an instinctive yet perfect moral judgment, who can perform the most complex ethical calculations like an Indian peasant can sometimes perform astounding mathematical feats in a matter of seconds. Lily was such a person. I craved her approval.

I played him the Goldberg Variations. If one wishes to reduce a sensitive German to tears there is no surer lachrymatory.

She had a kind of genius for picking the wrong man. She always looked for poetry and passion and sensitivity, the whole romantic kitchen, whereas I lived by a simpler diet, prose and pudding. I don’t expect attractive men to have attractive souls.