Are you very much in love with him?' he asked. She did not answer for some time, but stood gazing at the landscape.
'I wish I knew' she said at last.
He shook his head.
-'Knowledge would be fatal. It is the uncertainty that charms one. A mist makes things wonderful. All ways end at the same point, my dear Gladys.'
--'What is that?'
-'Disillusion.
About author
- Author's profession: Playwright, Writer, Poet
- Nationality: irish
- Born: October 16, 1854
- Died: November 30, 1900
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There was hardly a touch of earth in her love for Clare. To her sublime trustfulness he was all that goodness could be—knew all that a guide, philosopher, and friend should know. She thought every line in the contour of his person the perfection of masculine beauty, his soul the soul of a saint, his intellect that of a seer. The wisdom of her love for him, as love, sustained her dignity; she seemed to be wearing a crown. The compassion of his love for her, as she saw it, made her lift up her...
Thomas Hardy