Читать книгу Freedom - Джонатан Франзен, Jonathan Franzen, Jonathan Franzen - Страница 6

Epigraph

Go together,

You precious winners all; your exultation

Partake to everyone. I, an old turtle,

Will wing me to some withered bough, and there

My mate, that’s never to be found again,

Lament till I am lost.

— The Winter’s Tale