Did God Ever Cry Over His Lost

Kartik Places A Sovereign In The Lady's Cup, And I Know That It's Likely All He Has. "why Did You Do That?" I Ask. He Kicks A Rock On The Ground, Balancing It Nimbly Between His Feet Like A Ball. "she Needed It." Father Says It Isn't Good To Give Money To Beggers. They'll Only Spend It Unwisely On Drink Or Other Pleasures. "she Might Buy Ale With It." He Shrugs. "then She'll Have Ale. It Isn't The Pound That Matters; It's The Hope...i Know What It's Like To Fight For Things That Others Take For Granted.

You And I, We Must Carry On, Gemma. I Cannot Afford The Luxury Of Love. I Must Marry Well. And Now I Must Look After You. It Is My Duty." "if You Wish To Suffer, You Do So Of Your Own Free Will, Not On My Behalf. Or Father's Or Grandmama's Or Anyone's. You Are A Fine Physician, Thomas. Why Is That Not Enough?" "because It Isn't," He Says With A Rare Candor. "only This And The Hope Of Nothing More? A Quiet Respectability With No True Greatness Or Heroism In It, With Only My Reputation To Recommend Me. So You See, Gemma, You Are Not The Only One Who Cannot Rule Her Own Life.

May I Suggest That You All Read? And Often. Believe Me, It's Nice To Have Something To Talk About Other Than The Weather And The Queen's Health. Your Mind Is Not A Cage. It's A Garden. And It Requires Cultivating.

I Told Myself It Was The Snow—she Couldn’t Possibly Get To Philadelphia On The Roads. I Told Myself A Hundred Lies. Children Do That. It’s Amazing The Sorts Of Things You’ll Make Yourself Believe.

And Just As I Begin To Believe That All Is Well, There Is Some Subtle Change In The Light. The Room Takes Its True Shape. I Fight To Go Back To That Blissful Ignorance, But It Is Too Late. The Dull Pain Of Truth Weights My Soul, Pulling It Under. I Am Left Hopelessly Awake.