No doubt they've all been rejected; but he couldn't throw them overboard. "Now—begin. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting.
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