But do you know what struck me, apart from Nancy’s vibrant self-pity, which she had the nerve to pretend was grief? - Edward St Aubyn

And then he looked down at his fallen opponent, sprawled heavily on the carpet, and somehow the sight of his old neck, no longer festooned with an expensive black silk tie, but wrinkled and sagging and open at the throat, as if waiting for the final dagger thrust, filled him with pity and renewed his respect for the conservative powers of an ego that would rather kill its owner than allow him to change.

Of course it was wrong to want to change people, but what else could you possibly want to do with them?

No man is an island — although one’s known a surprising number who own one.