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" "It is the little things one bungles at. The big, real ones are nothing when they come.
Edward Morgan Forster (1 January 1879 – 7 July 1970) was an English novelist, short story writer, and essayist.
Biography information from Wikiquote
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There were letters for her at the bureau-one from her brother, full of athletics and biology; one from her mother, delightful as only mother's letters could be. She had read in it of the crocuses which had been bought for yellow and were coming up puce, of the new parlour-maid, who had watered the ferns with essence of lemonade...
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In Europe life retreats out of the cold, and exquisite fireside myths have resulted — Balder, Persephone — but [in India] the retreat is from the source of life, the treacherous sun, and no poetry adorns it because disillusionment cannot be beautiful. Men yearn for poetry though they may not confess it; they desire that joy shall be graceful and sorrow august and infinity have a form, and India fails to accommodate them.