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210 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1922
You stay with me all the time: you always will. You're like music, always in my head, but you're more than that. You go deeper: I suppose into my heart. Sometimes I think I'm carrying you in my arms. I can't see you but I can feel you're there, and sometimes I laugh because I think you're laughing.
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'You can't,' she said slowly, 'get happiness through a person if you can't get it through yourself'
People can't have everything. I don't suppose you'd change with anybody really, if you could. People are like that. They grumble, but they like being themselves
She wished he would loosen his grip and hoped he would go on holding her for ever. It was a moment of mingled ecstasy and sadness
...a prisoner fastened to a chain does not find much solace in counting the links
In their youth she and Francis had misunderstood, and in their maturity they had failed, each other; it was the fault of neither...
I don't really let you go. It's you I love, not just your hair and your face and the way your nose turns up, and your hands and feet, and your straight neck. I have to let them go, but you don't go. You stay with me all the time: you always will. You're like music, always in my head, but you're more than that. You go deeper: I suppose into my heart. Sometimes I think I'm carrying you in my arms. I can't see you but I can feel you're there, and sometimes I laugh because I think you're laughing[my sigh...]
Yet she was no thief: she was only picking up what would otherwise be wasted
It seemed to her that life was hardly more than a perpetual and painful choice
...the past was mixed with the present, the done with the undone: she was assailed by the awful conviction that right was prolific in producing wrong.