You see I don't even know myself and am really trying to argue it out with myself - anyway it isn't very important. (1934) - Wide Sargasso Sea

It was obvious that this was not an Anglo-Saxon: he was too gay, too dirty, too unreserved and in his little eyes was such a mellow comprehension of all the sins and the delights of life. He was drinking rapidly one glass of beer after another, smoking a long, curved pipe, and beaming contentedly on the world. The woman with him wore a black coat and skirt; she had her back to us.
I said:
'Who's the happy man in the corner? I've never seen him before.'

I am always being told that until my work ceases being "sordid and depressing" I haven't much chance of selling. (1931)

'Mein Lieb, Mon Cher, My Dear, Amigo,' the letter began (beginning of the story "Tigers Are Better-looking")