You've got to see me, Martin. I'm to blame. I've never been quite and entirely myself with you. The situation didn't let me be. The untruthfulness infected everything. I must break out a little? Do you see at all?

Oh my life is so awful, it's just so awful to be me, you don't know what it's like waking every morning and finding the whole horror of being yourself still there.

Sometimes I felt I would die by wishing it when I went to sleep but I always woke up again and found I was still there. Every morning finding I'm still me, that's hell.""Well, get out of hell then! The gate's open and I'm holding it!""I can't. I'm hell, myself.

That too was part of a machine from which she had not, for all her 'feelings' and her 'principles', the spirit or the courage really to escape.

He's had a bloody awful childhood. Like I had. Those things get passed on and on.

You can't magic yourself out of the situation, you've got to live it as decently and as grimly as you can.

Was this strange mode of life to go on and on?

I can't see how anything can ever happen to us — I mean, I feel as if, if we leave this place, we shall crumble to pieces.

Sometimes I just feel so shut in, with all those people and they've all got something while I've got nothing.