She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. He looked half at her and half at the sky. And so she came upon the word Love. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. When she slipped off of it her head started to bob, filled with air. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness.
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