Beaming and melting in smiles of benevolence and self-effacement, they sidled up and plumped down next to Lucette, who turned to them with her last, last, last free gift of staunch courtesy that was stronger than failure and death.

on dry thighbones but on blood-ripe lives, And our best yesterdays are now foul piles Of crumpled names, phone numbers and foxed files.

I will never go back. For the simple reason that all the Russia I need, after all, is with me–always with me. Her literature, her language, my own Russian childhood. I will never return, I will never surrender.

And now, said Ada, Van is going to stop being vulgar-I
mean, stop forever! Because I had and have and shall always
have only one beau, only one beast, only one sorrow, only one joy.

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