What had the man had, to make him by the loss of it so bleed and yet live? Something-and this reached him with a pang-that he, John Marcher, hadn't; the proof of which was precisely John Marcher's arid end. No passion had ever touched him, for this was what passion meant; he had survived and maundered and pined, but where had been his deep ravage?... The escape would have been to love her; then, then he would have lived.
( Henry James )
[ The Beast in the Jungle and ]
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