Oh, my soul was not in all that.
Ursus
Most people perish from thinking like you. [earnestly] Somewhere in you is a blinding, transfigured face, struggling up out of the sprawled, coiling limbs of infinite pasts, yet put it in certain conditions and it retains its fearful stamp of former bestiality. But during death, death the last condition we follow, what a likeness unto God appears upon the features of the worst of us.
Gwymplane [who is too tortured to hear]
Oh, how can I ever again catch at her lovely virginal hands? [he lifts one very gently] Her hands have the sudden beauty and strange fragrance of flowers that bloom among shadows. How can I ever press my lips against them again without bruising their dear shy softness by this weight of unworthiness I carry within me?
Ursus
Only through hope.
Gwymplane
Hope is for people who have not such keen noses as I. I can smell the decay in myself far too well to go near the person I love with it. Only to sleep, to sleep, and not have to make my way any more, through these biting, malicious, stifling memories. How can a man's soul exist after he knows what sodden morasses the body can clamp him into!
Ursus