But there are precious few of us who are willing in youth to accept the world on its own terms--we want to add our little poem to the universal prose of things." "But it is life itself that I want," repeated Laura.
"And so I wanted Rosa, my dear, every bit as much." "Rosa!" There was a glow of surprise in the look she turned upon him.
"You find it hard to believe, but it is true nevertheless.

I had my golden dream like everyone else, and when Rosa loved me I told myself it had all come true.

Well, perhaps, in a measure it has, only, after all, Rosa turned out to be more suited to real life than to poetic moonshine." "I can't imagine even you idealizing Aunt Rosa," said Laura, "but that I suppose is the way life equalises things." "That way or another, and the worst it can do for us is to return us our own dreams in grotesque and mutilated forms.

That will most likely be your portion, too, my child, for life has hurt every poet since the world began, and it will hurt you more than most because you are so big a creature." Laura stirred suddenly and, after gazing a moment at the fire, turned upon him a face which had grown brilliant with animation.

"I want to taste everything," she said.