Sublime

In my head on this particular day are Tomasini’s String Quartet in B flat major IV, the sound of a thousand butterflies dancing in a field one late summer, the cover illustration from a Penguin edition of Our Mutual Friend, a recipe for Key Lime cheesecake, the text of an A-level Geography book, and a pocket watch.

For a leading lady to bring me a letter from her father-in-law is a new experience. She is married to Michael Attenborough, son of Richard, and when Dickie was in New York recently for the opening of Young Winston I dropped him a note. His reply said it was very sweet of me to offer to look after Jane, adding that he knew I would do this anyway. Th

Mrs. Thorpe was a widow, and not a very rich one; she was a good-humoured, well-meaning woman, and a very indulgent mother. Her eldest daughter had great personal beauty, and the younger ones, by pretending to be as handsome as their sister, imitating her air, and dressing in the same style, did very well.

“He wants Dr. Gibson.” “Gibson’s in King’s Cross, isn’t she? We can fetch our family physician far more quickly.” “He doesn’t want her as a doctor,” Kathleen had said softly. “He wants the woman he loves.”

“But you know so many men,” said Ophelia, “isn’t there even one for you?” “They’re all adjectives,” said [Sophie], “they all make me feel modified;

Doctor was an unshakable identity, and Sylvie and her family, and all of Kent’s many friends, showed him their wounds and symptoms with a look that said, Can you fix me?