"Unhappy! Of course you'll be unhappy! Who the devil are you that you shouldn't be unhappy, like the mother that bore you? Disappointed! Of course we'll be disappointed! I, for one, don't expect till I die to be so good a man as I am at this minute, for just now I'm fifty thousand feet high, a tower with all the trumpets shouting."G. K. Chesterton Manalive
"You see all this," said Rosamund, with a grand sincerity in her solid face, "and do you really want to marry me?"
"My darling, what else is there to do?" reasoned the Irishman. "What other occupation is there for an active man on this earth, except to marry you? What's the alternative to marriage, barring sleep? It's not liberty, Rosamund. Unless you marry God, as our nuns do in Ireland, you must marry Man; that is Me. The only third thing is to marry yourself-to live with yourself, yourself, yourself-the only companion that is never satisfied-and never satisfactory."
"Michael," said Miss Hunt, in a very soft voice, "if you won't talk so much, I'll marry you."
"It's no time for talking," cried Micahel Moon. "Singing is the only thing. Can't you find that mandoline of yours, Rosamund?"
"Go and fetch it for me," said Rosamund, with crisp and sharp authority.
Life is a thing to be risked, and that's grace!
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