167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. Even the horns were easing into the concept and the woodwinds in the second movement were particularly well-orchestrated. "I think the natives saw you coming out of the lagoon, one dawn. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ‘When one is penniless, one does not expect a life of ease. " "How!" ejaculated Trenchard, starting back and drawing his sword. .
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