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Authors:

In his ordinary voice, so that she scarcely realized he was quoting poetry, he said:"'From far, from eve and morning, And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me. Blew hither: here am I'George and I both know this, but why does it distress him? We know that we come from the winds, and that we shall return to them; that all life is perhaps a knot, a tangle, a blemish in the eternal smoothness. But why should this make us unhappy? Let us rather love one another, and work and rejoice. I don't believe in this world sorrow.

E. M. Forster