The purpose of Art,” his mother, Sylvie, said — instructed even — “is to convey the truth of a thing, not to be the truth itself. - Kate Atkinson

"A 'career woman,'" Sylvie said, as if the two words had no place in the same sentence. "A spinster," she added, contemplating the word. Ursula wondered why her mother was working so hard to rile her. "Perhaps you will never marry," Sylvie said, as if in conclusion, as if Ursula's life was as good as over. "Would that be such a bad thing? 'The unmarried daughter,'" Ursula said, tucking into an iced fancy. "It was good enough for Jane Austen."

Twittering just seemed to be people telling other people what they were doing — getting in the shower, making coffee. Who on earth wanted to know these things?...Babble and twitter. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

The whole edifice of civilization turned out to be constructed from an unstable mix of quicksand and imagination.