“Do you see what I was talking about, Strings?” No one is going to want to hear a note from you until you have tone like. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. Still, my tutor was a highly educated scholar—my father.
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