Vješt je doista draguljar, koji slaže ljudsku dušu i koji joj daje moć, da zaboravlja tamu, a sjeća se samo sunčeva sjaja! - John Galsworthy

that slow and beautiful decay which flings crowns underfoot to star the earth with fallen glories,

Get Up! Go out! Do something! But what - what was worth doing? What had any meaning in it? She saw herself doing - extravagant things; nursing sick women; tending pale babies; making a speech in Parliament; riding a steeplechase; hoeing turnips in knickerbockers - decorative. And she lay perfectly still, bound by the filaments of her self-vision. So long as she saw herself she would do nothing - she knew it - for nothing would be worth doing! And it seemed to her, lying there so still, that not to see herself would be worse than anything. And she felt that to feel this was to acknowledge herself caged for ever.

Idealism increases in direct proportion to one’s distance from the problem.