But the more poetry one reads the more one longs to read!

What happiness it is to listen to rain at night; joyful relief, ease; a lapping-round and hushing and brooding tenderness, all are mingled together in the sound of the fast-falling rain. God, looking down upon the rainy earth, sees how faint are these lights shining in little windows, - how easily put out.

we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves.

Better to write twaddle, anything, than nothing at all.

Bless you, my darling, and remember you are always in the heart - oh tucked so close there is no chance of escape - of your sister.

I think of you often. Especially in the evenings, when I am on the balcony and it’s too dark to write or to do anything but wait for the stars. A time I love. One feels half disembodied, sitting like a shadow at the door of one’s being while the dark tide rises. Then comes the moon, marvellously serene, and small stars, very merry for some reason of their own. It is so easy to forget, in a worldly life, to attend to these miracles.

Ah, what happiness it is to be with people who all are happy, to press hands, press cheeks, smile into eyes.