He said that for him beauty justified life, that he could not imagine a good action that was not a beautiful one nor any beautiful thing that could be altogether bad. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice.
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