Once, as the child's face reminded him of Kamala, Siddhartha recalled that a few words addressed to him in times of youth. "You can not love," she had said, and he had given razóny was compared to a star, and the men-children with wilted leaves and However, he felt in his words a reproach. I never really had lost or given entirely to another being, he had never forgotten so much of himself, or had committed the follies of love because of another, he had never done it, and this was, as
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