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‘Being in love” flooded them. They became part of that real but penetrating and exciting universe which is the world seen through the eyes of love. The sky stuck to them; the birds sang through them… Life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it there, with a dash on the beach.
Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
