"Hank had left me his doomed army, and he’d left Marcie his inheritance. Unfair didn’t begin to cover it."

Previous Quote

I cannot help feeling there is something essentially wrong about love. Friends may quarrel or drift apart, close relations too, but there is not this pang, this pathos, this fatality which clings to love. Friendship never has that doomed look. Why, what is the matter? I have not stopped loving you, but because I cannot go on kissing your dim dear face, we must part, we must part.

— Vladimir Nabokov