It is rather exciting to write by moonlight.

Wakings are the worst times--almost before my eyes are open a great weight seems to roll on my heart.

I am a restlessness inside a stillness inside a restlessness.

...surely I could give him--a sort of contentment... That isn't enough to give. Not for the giver.

Oh, comfortable cocoa!

My God - it's a green child!" said the American. "What is this place - the House of Usher?

What is it about the English countryside — why is the beauty so much more than visual? Why does it touch one so?