I suffer as always from the fear of putting down the first line. It is amazing the terrors, the magics, the prayers, the straightening shyness that assails one.

At about 10 o'clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars.

Are cats strange animals or do they so resemble us that we find them curious as we do monkeys?

An ocean without unnamed monsters would be like sleep without dreams.

In early June the world of leaf and blade and flowers explodes, and every sunset is different.

She had a dour Presbyterian mind and a code of morals that pinned down and beat the brains out of nearly everything that was pleasant to do.

All great and precious things are lonely.