The only way out of it seems to be for somebody to love Pimlico: to love it with a transcendental tie and without any earthly reason.

If there arose a man who loved Pimlico, then Pimlico would rise into ivory towers and golden pinnacles; Pimlico would attire herself as a woman does when she is loved.

For decoration is not given to hide horrible things; but to decorate things already adorable.

A mother does not give her child a blue bow because he is so ugly without it.

A lover does not give a girl a necklace to hide her neck.