Sleep pierced his eyelids with its sharp needles, but his brain was sharper. It is a great misery for the body to be desperately in need of sleep and for sleep not to come.
(about Finn, p 415)
There was a warmth of communal life in which private worries could be comfortably smothered.
What had gone wrong with her? “The years pass . . .” Ronnie’s voice. Not death—but the death of the years. While you still have the years, everything is possible, everything can be encountered, even death. But with the years gone, with the years dead, all that was possible is past, and ahead, ahead in the lonely darkness, is Death.
(about Catrine, p 467)