” Her hand fell back into her lap. By the side of her plate was a small key. None at all. But she must not laugh. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM2LjI3LjExNyAtIDEyLTA2LTIwMjQgMTc6MzE6MTQgLSAyMDgxNTY3NTI3
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