" It kills what is dreadful and makes what is beautiful live.” “I do agree,” said Helen, as she sipped the milk. “But you said that the house was dead not half an hour ago.” “Meaning that I was dead. I felt it.” “Yes, the house has a surer life than we, even if it was empty, and, as it is, I can’t get over that for thirty years the sun has never shone full on our furniture. After all, Wickham Place was a grave. Meg, I’ve a startling idea. "

― E.M. Forster , The Works of E. M. Forster