In the early days of their marriage, Benjamin had worshipped her. But, as the years passed, her honey-colored hair had become an unexciting brown, the blue enamel of her eyes assumed the aspect of cheap crockery — moreover, and most of all, she had become too settled in her ways, too placid, too content, too anemic in her excitements, and too sober in her taste. As a bride, it had been she who “dragged” Benjamin to dances and dinners — now conditions were reversed. She went out socially with him, but without enthusiasm, devoured entirely by that eternal inertia which comes to live with each of us one day and stays with us to the end.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
