I&#39;ve never made any effort to hide what happened. I served my time, I&#39;ve tried to learn and move on.

All was fullness and all was active, there was no weakness in time, all, even the least perceptible stirring, was made of existence. And all these existents which bustled about this tree came from nowhere and were going nowhere.

Luz dorada sobr el mar, sobre arena, sobre cantizales. El sol está ahí, los gráciles árboles, las casas limón.

Their long years together had shown him that it did not so much matter if marriage was a dull duty, as long as it kept the dignity of duty: lapsing from that, it became a mere battle of ugly appetites.

Written By Edith Wharton

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