Page:Confessions of a wife (IA confessionsofwif00adamiala).pdf/89

 space before you know that you are moving at all.

I cannot think who wrote those lines that I have always liked:

I wonder if misery is like this, too—a great ebb; the going out slowly of joy, wave by wave, till half the sea is emptied and all the shore is dry. Or is it one shock and cataclysm of nature, plunging over you at a crash—the tidal wave of experience? It is hard for me to-day to believe that I can ever be unhappy; or, indeed, that any other young, live, loving girl in the world can be. I am so happy that I find I cannot do anything at all but sing or pray; but I should not tell any person that, not even Dana. I don't think he would understand. When I sing, my song is half a prayer, and if I prayed, my prayer would be something like a song. It makes a strange medley—may the Lord forgive me! and I think He will.