The characters belong to Eoin Colfer, the poetry to W.S., the title to Proust.
A la Recherche du Temps Perdu
'After all we've been through together…' Twice that thought had surfaced: on Hybras with despair and in Wicklow with wonder.
Now, long years later, when the flames were ashes, he wondered if it was all they'd had. If so, it hadn't been enough; it couldn't carry them through his ageing maturity and her ever youthful exuberance. Respect, even affection, was still theirs - but nothing more. Shakespeare had been wrong, love was Time's fool, or perhaps it wasn't that sonnet he should consider but The Passionate Pilgrim, 'Crabbed age and youth cannot live together.'
He hoped she was happy with Trouble.
Author's Note
Everyone cites Holly's age as a problem, but surely it's her youth that's the real stumbling block?
