(on grief) And you do come out of it, that's true. After a year, after five. But you don't come out of it like a train coming out of a tunnel, bursting through the downs into sunshine and that swift, rattling descent to the Channel. you come out of it as a gull comes out of an oil-slick. You are tarred and feathered for life.
Rating 4.60 em 5(10 Votes)
Author: Julian Barnes