What Lily craved was the darkness made by enfolding arms, the silence which is not solitude, but compassion holding its breath. — Edith Wharton Copy Share Image
“Lily had no heart to lean on. Her relation with her aunt was as superficial as that of chance lodgers who pass… — Edith Wharton Copy Share Image
“As the pain that can be told is but half a pain, so the pity that questions has little healing in its… — Edith Wharton Copy Share Image
