She seemed always to have seen him through a blur - first of sleepiness, then of distance and indifference - and now the fog had thickened till he was almost indistinguishable.

She had in truth no abstract propensity to malice: she did not dislike Lily because the latter was brilliant and predominant, but because she thought that Lily disliked her. It is less mortifying to believe one's self unpopular than insignificant, and vanity prefers to assume that indifference is a latent form of unfriendliness.

I tried to put things in perspective but sometimes you're just too close to it.

Everything about her was both vigorous and exquisite.

True originality consists not in a new manner but in a new vision.

If only we'd stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time.