she repaid us by giving life the quality that but for her was only to be found in music - Rebecca West

Thought that is worth calling thought has no mercy on itself, that is the dreadful proof of its quality.

Now, what class of actions always appear to us as automatic and neutral, inevitable and therefore exempt from censure? Our own. We always believe that what we did we had to do. Other men have free will, we ourselves live in a determined universe. And though we may know everything about our actions, how they are carried out and what results followed, we cannot know them for what they are, as we know that a rose is red and is scented, a plate of soup brown and hot and made of beans. Each man is a mystery to himself.

There is no such thing as conversation. It is an illusion. There are intersecting monologues, that is all.