It Was A Book To Kill Time

When I Have Eaten Mangoes, I Have Felt Like Eve.

As To The Family, I Have Never Understood How That Fits In With The Other Ideals --or, Indeed, Why It Should Be An Ideal At All. A Group Of Closely Related Persons Living Under One Roof; It Is A Convenience, Often A Necessity, Sometimes A Pleasure, Sometimes The Reverse; But Who First Exalted It As Admirable, An Almost Religious Ideal?

Life Is One Long Struggle To Disinter Oneself, To Keep One's Head Above The Accumulations, The Ever Deepening Layers Of Objects ... Which Attempt To Cover One Over, Steadily, Almost Irresistibly, Like Falling Snow.

Traveling Together Is A Great Test, Which Has Damaged Many Friendships And Even Honeymoons, And Some People Such As [thomas] Gray And Horace Walpole, Never Feel Quite The Same To One Another Again, And It Is Nobody's Fault, As One Knows If One Listens To The Stories Of Both, Though It Seems To Be Some People's Fault More Than Others.

Behavior Of Such Cunning Cruelty That Only A Human Being Could Have Thought Of Or Contrived It We Call 'inhuman,' Revealing Thus Some Pathetic Ideal Standard For Our Species That Survives All Betrayals.