Absence blots people out. We really have no absent friends.

The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We really have no absent friends. The friend becomes a traitor by breaking, however unwillingly or sadly, out of our own zone: a hard judgment is passed on him, for all the pleas of the heart.

Emotions

It is not our exalted feelings, it is our sentiments that build the necessary home.

Growth

Some people are molded by their admirations, others by their hostilities.

Lies and Lying

Nobody speaks the truth when there's something they must have.

Memory

The charm, one might say the genius of memory, is that it is choosy, chancy, and temperamental: it rejects the edifying cathedral and indelibly photographs the small boy outside, chewing a hunk of melon in the dust.