On Hallowe'en the old ghosts come about us, and they speak to some; to others they are dumb.

It always gives me a shiver when I see a cat seeing what I can't see.

The events of childhood do not pass but repeat themselves like seasons of the year.

Women are so strangely constructed that they have in them darkness as well as light, though it be but a little curtain hung across the sun. And love is the hand that takes the curtain down, a stronger hand than fear, which hung it up. For all the ill that is in us comes from fear, and all the good from love.

He loved her, both for her fault and her redemption of it, more than he had ever thought that he could love her; for he had believed that in their kiss love had reached its uttermost. But love has no uttermost, as the starshave no number and the sea no rest.

Upon your shattered ruins where, This vine will flourish still, as rare, As fresh, as fragrant as of old. Love will not crumble.

He bent his head and kissed her long and deeply, and in that kiss neither knew themselves, or even each other, but something beyond all consciousness that was both of them.