Because when we love, we always strive to became better than we are

Fear is the original sin,” suddenly said a still, small voice away back—back—back of Valancy’s consciousness. “Almost all the evil in the world has its origin in the fact that some one is afraid of something.”  Valancy stood up. She was still in the clutches of fear, but her soul was her own again. She would not be false to that inner voice.

Constable Moore had reached the age when men can subject their bodies to the worst irritations - whiskey, cigars, woolen clothes, bagpipes - without feeling a thing or, at least, without letting on.

Written By Neal Stephenson

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