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Since then he had been walking with a ghost: the miserable ghost of his illusion. Only he had somehow vivified, coloured, substantiated it, by the force of his own great need _ as a man might breathe a semblance of life into a dear drowned body that he cannot give up for dead.
Edith Wharton The Custom of the Country
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Since then he had been walking with a ghost: the miserable ghost of his illusion. Only he had somehow vivified, coloured, substantiated it, by the force of his own great need _ as a man might breathe a semblance of life into a dear drowned body that he cannot give up for dead.
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Edith Wharton

The Custom of the Country

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