Kindle Notes & Highlights
Who never knew the price of happiness will not be happy. Forgive no error you recognize, it will repeat itself, increase, and afterwards our pupils will not forgive in us what we forgave.
I thought it due from a just destiny that every morning was my rendezvous with you, which never could or would be broken. And how I flattered myself from time to time with proving to myself nothing in you could be unknown to me.
Waiting MY love will come will fling open her arms and fold me in them, will understand my fears, observe my changes. In from the pouring dark, from the pitch night without stopping to bang the taxi door she’ll run upstairs through the decaying porch burning with love and love’s happiness, she’ll run dripping upstairs, she won’t knock, will take my head in her hands, and when she drops her overcoat on a chair, it will slide to the floor in a blue heap.
WHEN your face appeared over my crumpled life at first I understood only the poverty of what I have. Then its particular light on woods, on rivers, on the sea, became my beginning in the coloured world in which I had not yet had my beginning.
In any man who dies there dies with him his first snow and kiss and fight. It goes with him. They are left books and bridges and painted canvas and machinery. Whose fate is to survive. But what has gone is also not nothing: by the rule of the game something has gone. Not people die but worlds die in them.
