From long habit I woke early, and decided to make my way down the woodland path to Taw pool, as I had done each early morning when I had stayed here in the autumn. It was a chilly misty morning, but the air smelled sharp and fresh, and the rising sun, hidden from sight, was slowly melting the shadows. My low spirits of the previous day were gone. I felt that a new life was about to begin. (William Nicolson in The Trial of True Love)
Photo by Rupert Britton on Unsplash When all's said and done, the idea of the uniqueness of the individual is nothing more than pompous absurdity. We remember our lives, Schopenhauer wrote somewhere, a little better than a novel we once read. Michel Houellebecq (in Platform )
What connection can there have been between many people in the innumerable histories of this world, who, from opposite sides of great gulfs, have, nevertheless, been very curiously brought together! Charles Dickens (in Bleak House )
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