"And are you sorry?" she said.
"In a way!" he replied, looking up at the sky. "I thought I'd done with it all. Now I've begun again."
"Begun what?"
"Life."
"Life!" she re-echoed, with a queer thrill.
"It's life," he said. "There's no keeping clear. And if you do keep clear you might almost as well die. So if I've got to be broken open again, I have." (110)
"Well, so many words, because I can't touch you. If I could sleep with my arms round you, the ink could stay in the bottle." (282-283)
(1928. New York: Signet Classic, 1959)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment