Everything about her was warm and soft and scented; even the stains of her grief became her as raindrops do the beaten rose.
Edith WhartonIn a sky of iron the points of the Dipper hung like icicles and Orion flashed his cold fires.
Edith WhartonIt was too late for happiness - but not too late to be helped by the thought of what I had missed. That is all I haved lived on - don't take it from me now
Edith Wharton