“Sometimes it seemed to Lydia that work was the only certainty, the only lasting truth in a human world of fitful change. Work and the mountains remained. Joy was deceitful and as brief as a summer rainbow. Love was a spear upon which you hurled yourself in ecstasy – to discover pain and bear the wound forever. A man in your heart, the child of your flesh, a dream of your spirit – you gave yourself to them, wholly and in wonder, and they never knew you.”
