This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes. From the western half of the sky the sun was shying little golden disks at the sea--if you gazed intently enough you could see them skip from wave tip to wave tip until they joined a broad collar of golden coin that was collecting half a mile out and would eventually be a dazzling sunset.

I want leisure to read—an immense amount.

It is not life that's complicated, it's the struggle to guide and control life.

She saw something awful in the very simplicity she failed to understand.

Lie to me by the moonlight. Do a fabulous story.

Who would not be pleased at carrying lamps helpfully through the darkness?

Human sympathy has its limits, and we were contented to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind.