She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. My mother really wants to meet you. “Julian, I don’t know how to put this. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. He was still thickly clad in jeans. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. I’ve had my time and lost my chances. "'A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.
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