There is so much.
  1. What a lark! What a plunge!
  2. There! Out it boomed. First a warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. Such fools we are, she thought
  3. life; London; this moment of June.
  4. wrapped in the soft mesh of the grey-blue morning air, which, as the day wore on, would unwind
  5. the perfect hostess he called her (she had cried over it in her bedroom), she had the makings of the perfect hostess, he said.
  6. She sliced like a knife through everything
  7. she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day.
  8. and she would not say of Peter, she would not say of herself, I am this, I am that
  9. did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely; all this must go on without her; did she resent it; or did it not become consoling
  10. "That is all," she repeated, pausing for a moment at the window of a glove shop where, before the War, you could buy almost perfect gloves.
  11. torture, so insensitive was she, dressed in a green mackintosh coat.
  12. But not in this world. No.
  13. X
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  14. old ladies on the tops of omnibuses spread their black parasols; here a green, here a red parasol opened with a little pop.
  15. She had a right to his arm, though it was without feeling. He would give her, who was so simple, so impulsive, only twenty-four, without friends in England, who had left Italy for his sake, a piece of bone.
  16. sifting the ruins of time, when London is a grass-grown path and all those hurrying along the pavement this Wednesday morning are but bones with a few wedding rings mixed up in their dust
  17. And Clarissa, too, gave a party.
  18. waves of sound which, concussing, broke.
  19. the white and blue, barred with black branches. Sounds made harmonies with premeditation; the spaces between them were as significant as the sounds. A child cried. Rightly far away a horn sounded. All taken together meant the birth of a new religion—
  20. To love makes one solitary, she thought.
  21. Far was Italy and the white houses and the room where her sisters sat making hats, and the steers crowded every evening with people walking, laughing out loud, not half alive like the people here, huddled
  22. There was nobody. Her words faded.
  23. as perhaps at midnight, when all boundaries are lost, the country reverts to its ancient shape, as the Romans saw it, lying cloudy, when they landed, and the hills had no names and rivers wound they knew not where—such was her darkness;
  24. Men must not cut down trees. There is a God. (He noted such revelations on the backs of envelopes.) Change the world. No one kills from hatred. Make it known (he wrote it down). He waited. He listened.
  25. sing freshly and piercingly in Greek words how there is no crime and, joined by another sparrow, they sang in voices prolonged and piercing in Greek words, from trees in the meadow of life beyond a river where the dead walk, how there is no death.
  26. There was his hand; there the dead.
  27. he said (jumping up),
  28. "Look," she repeated.
  29. to feel on the creased pouch of her worn old face the kiss of pity
  30. For it's been a hard life, thought Mrs. Dumpster. What hadn't she given to it? Roses; figure; her feet too. (She drew the knobbed lumps beneath her skirt.) Roses, she thought sardonically. All trash, m'dear.
  31. It soared and shot.
  32. It swept and fell.