Status Updates From A Portrait of the Artist as...

He could remember only .. that her dark eyes had invited and unnerved him. He wondered had he been in her thoughts as she had been in his Then in the dark .. he rested the tips of the fingers of one hand upon the palm of the other hand, scarcely touching it lightly. But the pressure of her fingers had been lighter and steadier: and suddenly the memory of their touch traversed his brain and body like an invisible wave

A sudden burst of music issued from the ark, the prelude (...). The sentiment of the opening bars, their languor and supple movement, evoked the incommunicable emotion which had been the cause of all his day’s unrest and of his impatient movement of a moment before. His unrest issued from him like a wave of sound: and on the tide of flowing music the ark was journeying, trailing her cables of lanterns in her wake.

During this process all those elements which he deemed common and insignificant fell out of the scene. [...] The verses told only of the night and the balmy breeze and the maiden lustre of the moon. Some undefined sorrow was hidden in the hearts of the protagonists as they stood in silence beneath the leafless trees and when the moment of farewell had come the kiss, which had been withheld by one, was given by both.

I only understand 50% of whatever the hell is going on...