Barbara Pym in ihrem Tagebuch Mai 1939
What is the heart? A damp cave with things growing in it, mysterious secret plants of love or whatever you like. Or a dusty lumber room full of junk. Or a neat orderly place like a desk with a place for everything and everything in its place.
Something might be starting now that that would linger on through many years – dying sometimes and then coming back again, like a twinge of rheumatism in the winter, so that you suddenly felt it your knee when you were nearing the top of a long flight of stairs.
A Great Love that was unrequited might well be like that. (S. 127)
Barbara Pym: A Very Private Eye: An Autobiography in Letters and Diaries, edited by Hazel Holt and Hilary Pym (1984)