The ocean asks for nothing but those who stand by her shores gradually attune themselves to her rhythm.

All of us have wonders hidden in our breasts, only needing circumstances to evoke them.

For though we are perpetually bragging of it as our safety, it is nothing but a poor fringe on the mantle of the upper.

Polly put the kettle on, we'll all have tea.

"Well," said my aunt, "this is his boy - his son. He would be as like his father as it's possible to be, if he was not so like his mother, too."

The dreams of childhood - it's airy fables, its graceful, beautiful, humane, impossible adornments of the world beyond; so good to be believed in once, so good to be remembered when outgrown.

But, for all that, they had a very pleasant walk. The trees were bare of leaves, and the river was bare of water-lilies; but the sky was not bare of its beautiful blue, and the water reflected it, and a delicious wind ran with the stream, touching the surface crisply.