"why do you ask, simon?"
"because i've been thinking of the past. i've been thinking of lily, the woman i might have married.... well, why are you silent? do you mind my thinking of the past?"
"why should i mind, simon? doesn't one always think of the past, in a garden with men and women lying under the trees? aren't they one's past, all that remains of it, those men and women, those ghosts lying under the trees... one's happiness, one's reality?"