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SIGNED MY GUESTBOOK YET?
"You will," she says.
"From this point in our lives, she had whispered to him earlier, we will either find or lose our souls."
"I just want you to know. I don't miss you yet."
His face awful to her, trying to smile. Her head sweeps away from him and hits the side of the gatepost. He sees it hurt her, notices the wince. But they have separated already into themselves now, the walls up at her insistence. Her jerk, her pain, is accidental, is intentional. Her hand is near her temple.
- The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje
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