Deep in the being of Mr. Polly, deep in that darkness, like a creature which has been beaten about the head and left for dead but still lives, crawled a persuasion that over and above the things that are jolly and "bits of all right," there was beauty, there was delight; that somewhere - magically inaccessible perhaps, but still somewhere - were pure and easy and joyous states of body and mind.
-H.G. Wells
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