"When I search my memory for the forms of the past it is as if I were leaning over a sea-pool among rocks. The water is sunlit, and there are clear shapes beneath them. The outline of pebbles and rocks is sharp; I can see life moving. But there are dark grottoes too where the seaweed drapes its curtains; and as I fixedly look the edges blur and quaver, the weeds toss in the flow of water, and now I can distinguish with certainty nothing. "
"When I search my memory for the forms of the past it is as if I were leaning over a sea-pool among rocks. The water is sunlit, and there are clear shapes beneath them. The outline of pebbles and rocks is sharp; I can see life moving. But there are dark grottoes too where the seaweed drapes its curtains; and as I fixedly look the edges blur and quaver, the weeds toss in the flow of water, and now I can distinguish with certainty nothing. "
from An Affair of the Heart by Dilys Powell