School is a foretaste of life.

It was jolly in the country. A cow and little pigs to play with and milk warm from the cow.

Among the delights of Summer were picnics to the woods.

I did not know what it was to be happy for a whole day at a time, scarcely for an hour.

I became an ardent, but never a specially good, dancer.

Birth was something that came quite unexpectedly, and afterwards there was one child more in the house.

That a literature in our time is living is shown in that way that it debates problems.