I've bumped into so much of the underside that I can't see clean any more. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. ” He laughed. The dance itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. No one could take the place for anything but what it was, and even Gosse hesitated in the doorway.
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