For the night was not impartial. No, the night loved some more than others, served some more than others.

I'm a great reader that never has time to read.

Never think you've seen the last of anything.

Look for where the sky is brightest along the horizon. That reflects the nearest river. Strike out for a river and you will find habitation.

Is there any sleeping person you can be entirely sure you have not misjudged?

My mother read secondarily for information; she sank as a hedonist into novels. She read Dickens in the spirit in which she would have eloped with him.

When I was a child and the snow fell, my mother always rushed to the kitchen and made snow ice cream and divinity fudge-egg whites, sugar and pecans, mostly. It was a lark then and I always associate divinity fudge with snowstorms.