Inevitably, intersecting every kind of grief and sorrow from which our life is woven, a resplendent joy will flash past, as a splendid carriage with golden harness, grandiose horses, and brightly shining windows will suddenly, unheralded, hurtle past an impoverished village lost in the backwoods, a village that has seen nothing but a country wagon, and for long afterwards the peasants will stand, their jaws gaping wide, their hats still in their hands, even though the wondrous carriage has by now long galloped off and vanished from sight. So, too, the blond girl has suddenly, completely
...more
