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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Memoirs of My Dead Life"

'"
"So you nearly died of love! Well, now you must live for love, liking
things as they go by. Life is beautiful at the moment, sad when we
look back, fearful when we look forward; but I suppose it's hopeless
to expect a little Christian like you to live without drawing
conclusions, liking things as they go by as the nymphs do. Dry those
tears; forget that man. You tell me it is over and done. Remember
nothing except that the sky and the sea are blue, that it is a luxury
to feel alive here by the sea-shore. My happiness would be to make you
happy, to see you put the past out of your mind, to close your eyes to
the future. That will be easy to do by this beautiful sea-shore, under
those blue skies with flowers everywhere and drives among the
mountains awaiting us. We create our own worlds. Chance has left you
here and sent me to you. I want you to eat a great deal and to sleep
and to get fatter and to dream and to read Theocritus, so that when we
go to the mountains we shall be transported into antiquity. You must
forget Albert and him who made you unhappy--he allowed you to look
back and forwards."
"I think I deserve some happiness; you see I have sacrificed so much."
At these words my hopes rose--shall I say like a balloon out of which
a great weight of ballast has been thrown?--and so high did they go
that failure seemed like a little feather swimming in the gulf below.


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