Well, Iโve had my fun; Iโve had it, he thought, looking up at the swinging baskets of pale geraniums. And it was smashed to atomsโhis fun, for it was half made up, as he knew very well; invented, this escapade with the girl; made up, as one makes up the better part of life, he thoughtโmaking onself up; making her up; creating an exquisite amusement, and something more. But odd it was, and quite true; all this one could never shareโit smashed to atoms.
Virginia WoolfVenerable are letters, infinitely brave, forlorn, and lost. Life would split asunder without them. 'Come to tea, come to dinner, what's the truth of the story? have you heard the news? life in the capital is wonderful; the Russian dancers....' These are our stays and props. These lace our days together and make of life a perfect globe.
Virginia Woolf