"Can't!" repeated his mother. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. There’s no logic in these things. I’ve been thinking, you know—I’m not sure that primarily the perception of beauty isn’t just intensity of feeling free from pain; intensity of perception without any tissue destruction. “Tiffany’s?” He looked at her comically. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. Only promise me to amend—to quit your vile companions—and I will forgive you—will bless you.
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