I believe flowers have souls. I have known roses that I expect to meet in heaven.

It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.

The world is always young again for just a few moments at the dawn.

Maples are such sociable trees ... They're always rustling and whispering to you.

I wish we could see perfumes as well as smell them. I'm sure they would be very beautiful.

I know I chatter on far too much... but if you only knew how many things I want to say and don't. Give me SOME credit.

In daylight I belong to the world . . . in the night to sleep and eternity. But in the dusk I'm free from both and belong only to myself . . . and you