“Dear me!” he said. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. So he shut his eyes.
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