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February 2 - February 7, 2025
Pain diminished any satisfaction in feeling the man’s pulse beat through his limbs, but he did not drink for pleasure. He drank to forget. To forget himself. To forget…Elizabeth.
It is a truth of the human condition that the significance of a seemingly minor event will only become evident after one has erred in not realizing its importance, for the chance encounters and whimsies of fate make up a lifetime more so than all its recognized milestones.
“Naturally you are welcome,” said Darcy. “You do realize they assume that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. I am sure they are anxious to throw their daughters before you.”
She turned around, and his chest threatened to collapse. Elizabeth. His Elizabeth. Here, in London, in this theatre. How the fates conspired for his torment!
Darcy heard the words of Benedict drifting up from the stage. “I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will.”
Impossible. “How could she accept me as I am?” Rivens tilted his head, an enigmatic gesture. “Perhaps she need not know, sir.” Darcy stroked his chin in contemplation; she need not know. “The greatest thing one could ever know,” said Rivens. “What’s that?” “To love and be loved in return.”
“No, sir; I believe it is because you are still all too human.” Darcy looked up at him. “Humanity is not a species, sir. It is a state of mind.”
She fights and vanquishes in me, and I live and breathe in her, and I have life and being. Don Quixote de la Mancha, Miguel De Cervantes
she wanted to be consumed by him.
