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Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. In passing, why do we fear death? For our sins? Rather, isn't it the tremendous inherent human curiosity to know what is going to happen to-morrow that causes us to wince at the thought of annihilation? A subconscious resentment against the idea of entering darkness while our neighbour will proceed with his petty affairs as usual? "It's nip and tuck," said the doctor; "but we'll pull him through. “We’ve never known anyone who can play like you, Lucy. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket.
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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 09-06-2024 00:04:06
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