#miss read

The troubles and vexations of the last twenty-four hours suddenly seemed less oppressive. It is difficult, I reflected, to take an exaggerated view of any personal upheaval when standing in the building that has witnessed the joys, the hopes, the griefs and all the spiritual tremors of mortal man for centuries. . . . In the presence of this ancient, silent witness, it was right that personal tears should assume their own insignificant proportions. They were, after all, as ephemeral as the butterflies that hovered over the Michaelmas daisies on the graves outside.

“Not to be alone - ever- is one of my ideas of hell, and a day when I have had no solitude at all in which ‘to catch up with myself ‘ I find mentally, physically and spiritually exhausting.”