He had a vision of himself in his study, a dedicated and misguided Casaubon, and saw the precession of lives that he told himself his touch had withered - Caroline whom he had allowed to think that teacups - for him - were enough; Marget, whom he had thought arrogantly to solve by re-arranging on paper; Anna, who had gone pale in his shadow, and poked blindly about in no direction, a plant in a cellar.

The Shadow of the Sun ~ A.S.Byatt