[b]Anthony Powell
Do you think love flourishes at Stourwater?
I don’t know, said Moreland. Love means such different things to different people.[/b]
Finally, a definitive answer to what love is!
Friendship, popularly represented as something simple and straightforward—in contrast with love—is perhaps no less complicated, requiring equally mysterious nourishment; like love, too, bearing also within its embryo inherent seeds of dissolution, something more fundamentally destructive, perhaps, than the mere passing of time, the all-obliterating march of events which had, for example, come between Stringham and myself.
Finally, a definitive answer to what friendship is!
In fact, she seemed to prefer ‘older men’ on the whole, possibly because of their potentiality for deeper suffering. Young men might superficially transcend their seniors in this respect, but they probably showed less endurance in sustaining that state, while, once pinioned, the middle-aged could be made to writhe almost indefinitely.
Some of us are even able to take a certain kind of pride in that.
We took a bus to Victoria, then passed on foot into a vast, desolate region of stucco streets and squares upon which a doom seemed to have fallen. The gloom was cosmic.
By way of Baltimore for example.
Like many persons more interested in power than sensual enjoyment, Sillery touched no strong drink.
Like you can’t have both.
Reason is given to all men, but all men do not know how to use it. Liberty is offered to each one of us, but few learn to be free. Such gifts are, in any case, a right to be earned, not a privilege for the shiftless.
Unless of course you can just throw money at it.