Amory: Darling girl.[They kiss. Another pause and then she seizes his hand, covers it with kisses, and holds it to her breast.]Rosalind [sadly]: I love your hands, more than anything. I see them often when you're away from me--so tired; I know every line of them. Dear hands![Their eyes meet for a second and then she begins to cry--a tearless sobbing.]
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
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