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. “In any case, there is
probably some mistake. "
Gently she thrust Ruth aside. ’
‘You are perfectly correct,’ agreed Gerald at once. Gianfrancesco’s had
curved differently and was darker. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. “It is Rhea’s infant. ”
He was bereft of words for a moment, and in that moment she escaped, having
passed him on deftly to one of the later arrivals. Dare we look back upon the
darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how
many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled,
is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we
indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us
then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the
anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in
ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us
by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off
than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of
this.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 01-07-2024 17:31:45