"They stayed in the bedroom for half an hour or so, talking, looking at the things, talking: and Clara remembered thinking at the time that it was just such a honeysuckle-filtered, sunny, conversational afternoon that would in years to come, whatever those years might bring, cause her the most sad and exquisite nostalgia. She was sad in advance, and yet at the same time all the happier, doubly happy, for knowing that she recognised her happiness, that it was not slipping by her unheeded, for knowing that she was creating for herself a past."

- Jerusalem the Golden, Margaret Drabble