Sat
May
14
She was already in her heart on her way to Mrs. Smithson’s, already surrendering to the lure of that fraught, romantic, painful world, which seemed to call her, to call her continually, from the endurable sorrows of daily existence to some possible other country, a country where she felt she would recognize, though strange to it, the scenery and the landmarks. She thought often of this place, as of some place perpetually existing, and yet concealed: and she could describe it to herself only in terms of myth or allegory…. A place other than the real world… and it was both more beautiful and more valid.
- margaret drabble
