So he had seen her, often, silent, absent-minded, thoughts astray amid some blessed day-dream in that golden fable they had lived--and died in.
She said, as though to herself: "How can a woman slay ?...

I think those who have ever been victims of pain never desire to inflict it again on any living thing." She looked up humbly, searching his face.
"You know it has become such a dreadful thing to me--the responsibility for pain and death....

It is horrible for humanity to usurp such a power--to dare interfere with life--to mar it, end it!...

Children do not understand.

I was nothing more a few months ago.