[t]here Is No Greater Sign Of Innate

When People Really Hate One Another, The Tension Within Them Can Sometimes Make Itself Felt Throughout A Room, Like Atmospheric Waves, First Hot, Then Cold, Wafted Backwards And Forwards As If In An Invisible Process Of Air Conditioning, Creating A Pervasive Physical Disturbance.

One Of The Worst Things About Life Is Not How Nasty The Nasty People Are. You Know That Already. It Is How Nasty The Nice People Can Be.

On The Stage . . . Masks Are Assumed With Some Regard To Procedure; In Everyday Life, The Participants Act Their Parts Without Consideration Either For Suitability Of Scene Or For The Words Spoken By The Rest Of The Cast: The Result Is A General Tendency For Things To Be Brought To The Level Of Farce Even When The Theme Is Serious Enough.

A Dance To The Music Of Time.

He Gave Me A Look Of Great Contempt; As I Supposed, For Venturing, Even By Implication, To Draw A Parallel Between A Lack Of Affluence That Might, Literally, Affect My Purchase Of Rare Vintages, And A Figure Of Speech Intended Delicately To Convey His Own Dire Want For The Bare Necessities Of Life. He Remained Silent For Several Seconds, As If Trying To Make Up His Mind Whether He Could Ever Bring Himself To Speak To Me Again; And Then Said Gruffly: 'i've Got To Go Now.'