…she felt, more and more strongly, outside that eddy; or as if a shade had fallen, and robbed of colour, she saw things truly…Nothing seemed to have merged. They all sat separate. And the whole of the effort of merging and flowing and creating rested…and so, giving herself the little shake that one gives a watch that has stopped, the old familiar pulse began beating, as the watch begins ticking—one, two, three, one, two, three. And so on and so on, she repeated, listening to it, sheltering and fostering the still feeble pulse as one might guard a weak flame with a newspaper…life being now strong enough to bear her on again, she began all this business, as a sailor not without weariness sees the wind fill his sail and yet hardly wants to be off again and thinks how, had the ship sunk, he would have whirled round and round and found rest on the floor of the sea.
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Biography
Profession:
Author
Nationality:
British
Born:
January 25, 1882
Died:
March 28, 1941