"Will’s hand looked brown and sunburnt by contrast, their fingers dovetailed together like piano keys."

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You once said to me that I talk like a man in a book. I not only talk, but think and feel like one. I have spent my life in books; literature has deeply dyed my brain its own colour. This literary colouring is a protective one--like the brown of the rabbit or the checks of the quail--making it impossible for me to tell where literature ends and I begin.

— Nathanael West