“He closed his eyes.
«I'm so happy that I'm frightened. Wouldn't it be awful if this was—was the high point?…»
She looked at him dreamily.
«Beauty and love pass, I know…. Oh, there's sadness, too. I suppose all great happiness is a little sad.
Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses—»
«Beauty means the agony of sacrifice and the end of agony….»
«And, Amory, we're beautiful, I know. I'm sure God loves us—»”