“Oh Christ! How old were you?” “Just—well, I was young. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you.
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