"I weas aware of her crying, but with a child's selfishness I assume my own hurt worse than anyone else's in the world."
(p.14)
"Absence is only emptiness, from which the lucky recover. But presence, though filled with transgression and horrendous hurt, is also rife with moments of love and soul- and body-satisfying peace."
(p.14)
"Joy is only a moment, passing quickly as flash-paper."
(p.32)
Saturday
Lucrezia Borgia: A Novel
by John Faunce
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