We'll just have to find more flowers in the spring. That's when they bloom, tra la.

She thought of the library, so shining white and new; the rows and rows of unread books; the bliss of unhurried sojourns there and of going out to a restaurant, alone, to eat.

Was life always like that? she wondered. A game of hide and seek in which you only occasionally found the person you wanted to be?

Come in early, so there'll be time to pop corn,' Mrs. Ray said. If she mentioned popping corn, they always came in early. So she usually mentioned it.

Good things come, but they're never perfect; are they? You have to twist them into something perfect.

Betsy. The great war is on but I hope ours is over. Please come home. Joe.

The silence in the room had width, height, depth, mass and substance.