We desert those who desert us; we cannot afford to suffer; we must live how we can 
 This was one of these books which one can appreciate fully only when one reads the whole book. There are novels which I rate after e.g. one third or a half and this rate is the same to the end. And there are novels (like this) which I rate very high only at the end. 
 For people who live on expectations, to face up to their realisation is something of an ordeal. Expectations are the most perilous form of dream, and when dreams do realise themselves it is in the waking world: the difference is subtly but often painfully felt 
 It is so, because I had to grasp the whole story. I had to hear all, that characters had to say. It is like eating a delicious cake, the ingredients are tasty too (more or less, although, some of them I couldn't even put in my mouth), but only the cake as the whole is really delicious. Another parallel: Imagine, you watch a few fragments of a movie (randomly). In cases of some movies, you would rate them exactly the same like you would rate the whole movies. But, with some other movies, your rate based on fragments would be unjust, underestimated, because only watching the whole movie you can grasp all. 
 the senses bound our feeling world: there is an abrupt break where their power stops 
 I think that this story could be also called: "The death of the human/humanity". Portia symbolized not only an innocent heart, but also a human who isn't contaminated with hiding feelings, with regret for the world, with rules which an innocent soul doesn't see and understand yet. Watching Portia's life was sometimes like watching a cruel show. I often wanted to turn away my eyes, but part of me knew the story too well to be much surprised. Haven't we all gone through some of a kind of 'the death of our heart' in our youth? 
 Habit is not mere subjugation, it is a tender tie: when one remembers habit it seems to have been happiness 
 The characters and the story were chosen perfectly. It isn't important who I liked and who I didn't. It is important, that the book looks like a masterpiece. I haven't read any other novel by Elizabeth Bowen, so I can't compare, but I have read that this piece is considered as her the best. 
 "Sacrificers," said Matchett, "are not the ones to pity. The ones to pity are those that they sacrifice" 
 I have a 'but'. I have had some reservations with the language, the style of speaking. Some of the dialogues sounded to me too much unrealistic. I assume, that was the way of speaking in Elizabeth Bowen's time and her social circle. Nonetheless, sometimes I felt like hearing uncomfortable sound (you know, like rubbing with a fork on the plate). This made reading it a little hard to me at times. This is why I was torn how to rate it. Finally, I decided to concentrate on the message and on a psychological and philosophical aspects. 
 Experience isn't interesting till it begins to repeat itself--in fact, till it does that, it hardly is experience 
 Read quotes I have put in in my review and you will understand how precious the book is. 
 "But Matchett, she meant to do good." "No, she meant to do right." 
 PS. The cover is simply ideal for this story. 
 And at the end, summarizing (another quote): 
 Contempt for the pack of us, who muddled our own lives, then stopped me from living mine. Boredom, oh such boredom, with a sort of secret society about nothing, keeping on making little signs to each other. Utter lack of desire to know what it was about. Wish that someone outside would blow a whistle and make the whole thing stop. Wish to have my own innings. Contempt for married people, keeping on playing up. Contempt for unmarried people, looking cautious and touchy. Frantic, frantic desire to be handled with feeling, and, at the same time, to be let alone. Wish to be asked how I felt, great wish to be taken for granted-- 
 You want more? Read Dillwynia Peter's review.