The Last September

Be interested in what happens to you for its own sake; don't expect to be touched or changed - or to be in anything that you do. One just watches. Pain is one's misunderstanding.
Интересуйся тем, что происходит с тобой, просто потому, что это происходит. Не ожидай, что это должно тронуть или изменить тебя. Не вкладывай себя в то, что ты делаешь. Просто наблюдай. Боль - результат непонимания. (Перевод by Booksniffer)

"I know love is so important." - "At least it may get one somewhere."
"Я знаю, что любовь очень важна." - "По крайней мере, ты ощущаешь себя кем-то." (Перевод by Booksniffer)

Laurels breathed coldly and close: on her bare arms the tips of the leaves were timid and dank, like tongues of dead animals.

I know she is unhappy. Of course she always is unhappy, but she’s unhappy now in a different way.

“For instance: what do you, personally, think about all this?”
“Well, my opinion is—”
“Oh, but I don’t want your opinion, I want your point of view.”

Height had the quality of depth: as they mounted they seemed to be striking deeper into the large mild crystal of an inverted sea.

“I apologise for the mauve sweet peas,” she would have liked to be able to say to Mrs. Montmorency. “I don’t care for mauve myself. I can’t think why I ever picked them; there were plenty of others. But, as a matter of fact, I was nervous.” And— “Nervous?” she would wish Mr. Montmorency to ask her searchingly, “Why?” But she had her reserves, even in imagination; she would never tell him.

The hall with its staring portraits contracted round a glove on the table—a grey suede gauntlet strapped at the wrist—he picked up the glove and kissed it. But the house was full of ladies, the glove might as well be Marda’s—he dropped it doubtfully.