“I have put my arm round her waist, and I am shaken by the sorrow which agitates her chest and throat, and sometimes shakes her rudely, the sorrow which does not belong to me, which belongs to no one, and is like a divinity.”

—  Henri Barbusse

Light (1919), Ch. XIX - Ghosts

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Henri Barbusse197
French novelist 1873–1935

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