All Autobiography Is Self-indulgent.

Here Was A Silence Between Them For A Moment, And She Wondered If All Women, When In Love, Were Torn Between Two Impulses, A Longing To Throw Modesty And Reserve To The Winds And Confess Everything, And An Equal Determination To Conceal The Love Forever, To Be Cool, Aloof, Utterly Detached, To Die Rather Than Admit A Thing So Personal, So Intimate.

Life Was A Series Of Greetings And Farewells, One Was Always Saying Good-bye To Something, To Someone.

Either You Go To America With Mrs. Van Hopper Or You Come Home To Manderley With Me." "do You Mean You Want A Secretary Or Something?" "no, I'm Asking You To Marry Me, You Little Fool.

Happiness Happens When You Fit With Your Life, When You Fit So Harmoniously That Whatsoever You Are Doing Is Your Joy. Happiness Is Not A Possession To Be Prized, It Is A Quality Of Thought, A State Of Mind.

I Believe There Is A Theory That Men And Women Emerge Finer And Stronger After Suffering, An That To Advance In This Or Any World We Must Endure Ordeal By Fire." (from Rebecca)