Poor Henry, he's spending eternity wandering round and round a stately park and the fence is just too high for him to peep over and they're having tea just too far away for him to hear what the countess is saying.
W. Somerset Maugham (1874–1966), British author. Edward Driffield, in Cakes and Ale, ch. 11 (1930).
In a notebook entry, Maugham wrote of James in 1937, "He did not live, he observed life from a window, and too often was inclined to content himself with no more than what his friends told him they saw when they looked out of a window.... In the end the point of Henry James is neither his artistry nor his seriousness, but his personality, and this was curious and charming and a trifle absurd." (A Writer's Notebook, 1949).