sometimes, not always.

“they sat together over an enormous table, eating shyly in the dim rings of light that splattered the silver and crept softly over the heavy frames of the dark still-lifes that lined the wall. they were formally in love. there was a passive dignity in the currents that passed between them that quieted the air like a summer Sunday morning. the enveloping consideration of him, the luminous fragility of her…”
             —zelda fitzgerald, miss ella.