We act as if we were all each other's enemies; we can't be merciful, because we expect no mercy; we struggle to get as much as we can for ourselves and care nothing for others.

Think about it; never let it go out of your mind.
Perhaps some day it'll help you in your own life.' Then there was silence again.

Snowdon went back to his scat by the window and relit his pipe; to muse in the sunshine seemed sufficient occupation for him.

Jane opened another book and read to herself.
In the afternoon they went out together.

The old man had grown more talkative.