Memories
These pictures—there were hundreds of them, with names and without—all came back. They rose fresh and new out of this night of love, and I knew again what in my wretchedness I had forgotten, that they were my life’s possession and all its worth. Indestructible and abiding as the stars, these experiences, though forgotten, could never be erased. Their series was the story of my life, their starry light the undying value of my being.