One can be too ingenious in trying to search out the truth. Sometimes one must simply respect its veiled face. Of course this is a love story.

Even what we are most certain of we know only in an illusory form.

Of course we have an 'unconscious mind' and this is partly what my book is about. But there is no general chart of that lost continent. Certainly not a 'scientific' one.

I have battered destructively and in vain upon the mystery of someone else's life and must cease at last.

But these speculations are too nightmarish. Better to feel 'I shall never know'.

Of course one never knows about other people's loves, and I would certainly never know about James's.