If you asked me now who I am, the only answer I could give
with any certainty would be my name: Charles Ryder. For the rest:
my loves, my hates, down even to my deepest desires, I can no
longer say whether these emotions are my own, or stolen from those
I once so desperately wished to be. On second thoughts, one emotion
remains my own. Alone among the borrowed and the second-hand, as
pure as that faith from which I am still in flight: Guilt.
***
Sebastian Flyte: It was my fault for bringing you to Brideshead. Run
away. Run far away and dont ever look back.