I doubt if ever one ceases to love, but one can cease to be in love as easily as one can outgrow an author one admired as a boy.

It was not merely that his brother was dead. His brain, too young to realize the full paradox, wondered with an obscure self- pity why it was that the pulse of his brother's fear went on and on, when Francis was now where he had always been told there was no more terror and no more--darkness.

He's satisfied with himself. If you have a soul you can't be satisfied.

-"-A book takes me a year to write. It's too hard work for a revenge."-"If you knew how little you had to revenge...".

A major character has to come somehow out of the unconscious.