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Had not even the philosophers themselves been similarly caught? You arc sitting there licking your lips over it now, gloating on it, and on my hunger! "It will be good because I am so good and beautiful, and because I can do everything better than any other woman you will ever know, and because I love you with all my heart and soul, and want to be a part of you." "Will this great love get into the food you cook for me? It will feed your hunger as you've never been fed before. But things were not quite the same between them as they had once been. No longer now for them was there a single tenement and dwelling place.
He knew his life was little and would be extinguished, and that only darkness was immense and everlasting. She remembered all the things they had written about her work: "...subtle, searching, and hushed, with a wry and rueful humour of its own..." "..these old eyes shine by its deft, sure touch of whimsey as nothing else in this prodigal season of dramatic husks has done..." "..gay insouciance of her unmannered settings, touched with those qualities which we have come to expect in all her ardent services to that sometimes too ungrateful jade, the drama..." "..excellent fooling that is implicit in these droll sets, elvishly sly, mocking, and, need we add or make apology for adding, expert? One morning when she came to see him and was telling him with spirit and great good humour about a little comedy she had witnessed in the street, suddenly she stopped short in the middle of it, a cloud passed over her face, her eyes became troubled, and she turned to him and said: "You do love me, don't you, George? He stopped by the front window and stood looking out, and she went over to him and quietly put her arm through his.
He had learned that he could not devour the earth, that he must know and accept his limitations.
He had learned that-in spite of his strange body, so much off scale that it had often made him think himself a creature set apart, he was still the son and brother of all men living.
Thus, fleeing from a love that still pursued him, he had become a wanderer in strange countries.
The memory of her rosy, jolly face, her essential goodness, her sure and certain talent, and all the hours that they had spent together returned to torture him with new desire and longing for her.
As he lay there in the hospital he had gone back over his life, and, bit by bit, had extracted from it some of the hard lessons of experience.