"To be ignorant is to be happy. When will you understand that?"
"Never."
"I know what you're thinking of—all the so-called mental development of mankind—love, memory, imagination, sympathy—all the finer susceptibilities of our nature. Is it that what you were thinking of?"
"Vaguely. But I couldn't find the words so nicely as you do."
"Perhaps I read 'em and got 'em by heart. But don't you see that all the fine things I mentioned have to be paid for by increased liability to mental distress, to forms of pain to which coarse natures are, happily, strangers?"
"You talk like an unpleasant book," she laughed.
"And you look like a radiant picture," he retorted.
"Ssh! Here we are."
"The moon's rising: it's full tonight. Think of me if you happen to be watching it," he said.
"I shall be fast asleep."