George had turned at the sound of her arrival. For a moment he contemplated her, as one who had fallen out of heaven. He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves. The bushes above them closed. He stepped quickly forward and kissed her. Before she could speak, almost before she could feel, a voice called 'Lucy! Lucy! Lucy!' The silence of life had been broken by Miss Bartlett, who stood brown against the view.
If you can't annoy somebody, there is little point in writing.
You have to be quite heavily invested in someone to do them the honour of telling them you're annoyed with them.
Politics is a necessary evil, or a necessary annoyance, a necessary conundrum.
