The Black Obelisk
by Erich Maria Remarque

Bit was in the middle of this book, her father's favourite, at the time of her death

Slowly, I walk down the hill. Good night, sweet, wild heart. I think, Farewell, Isabelle! You have not drowned! You have flown away, or rather, you have suddenly become invisible, like the ancient gods; a wave length has changed; you are still here, but you are no longer to be touched; you will always be here and you will never disappear. Everything is always here; nothing is ever destroyed. It's just that light and shade pass over it; it is always here, the countenance before birth and after death, and sometimes it shines through what we call life and dazzles us for an instant and afterward we are never the same!

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