"For a split second they stared at each other. A fleeting, lasting moment. One person noticing another person out of a whole crowd of strangers."

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It was as if thousands and thousands of little roots and threads of consciousness in him and her had grown together into a tangled mass, till they could crowd no more, and the plant was dying. Now quietly, subtly, she was unravelling the tangle of his consciousness and hers, breaking the threads gently, one by one, with patience and impatience to get clear.

— D. H. Lawrence