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Harraden, Beatrice, 1864-1936

"Ships That Pass in the Night"


"Will you come and help me to develop some photographs?" he asked
cheerily. "You do not need to have a straight eye for that!"
Then as they went along together, he said:
"When we come to think about it seriously, it is rather absurd for us to
expect to have uninterrupted stretches of happiness. Happiness falls to
our share in separate detached bits; and those of us who are wise,
content ourselves with these broken fragments."
"But who is wise?" Bernardine asked. "Why, we all expect to be happy.
No one told us that we were to be happy. Still, though no one told us,
it is the true instinct of human nature."
"It would be interesting to know at what particular period of evolution
into our present glorious types we felt that instinct for the first
time," he said. "The sunshine must have had something to do with it.
You see how a dog throws itself down in the sunshine; the most wretched
cur heaves a sigh of content then; the sulkiest cat begins to purr."
They were standing outside the room set apart for the photograph-maniacs
of the Kurhaus.
"I cannot go into that horrid little hole," Bernardine said. "And
besides, I have promised to play chess with the Swedish professor.


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