January 2011
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Slaves of Solitude by Patrick Hamilton
Leave it to me to read a dry WWII English novel, dislike every second of it, but insist on finishing it.
I found one paragraph I loved though.
She did not join in the singing, but looked out through the windows at the stars. These stars gave her no sense of peace, were themselves war-stars, and told her severely, in pinpoints of pellucid light, that the war would have no ending.
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