” “Not exactly. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it. “Is Coke okay?” He asked as he pulled into the gas station. After all, life had still its pulsations. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. ” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things.
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