I wonder why people so commonly suppose that if two individuals are both writers they must therefore be hugely congenial.

Wouldn't it be nice if roses could talk? I'm sure they could tell us such lovely things.

The beauty of winter is that it makes you appreciate spring.

Mrs. Lynde says, 'Blessed are they who expect nothing for they shall not be disappointed.

Gossip, as usual, was one-third right and two-thirds wrong.

It has always seemed to me. ever since early childhood, amid all the commonplaces of life, i was very near to a kingdom of ideal beauty. Between it and me hung only a thin veil. I could never draw it quite aside, but sometimes a wind fluttered it and I caught a glimpse of the enchanting realms beyond-only a glimpse-but those glimpses have always made life worthwhile.

Why did dusk and fir-scent and the afterglow of autumnal sunsets make people say absurd things?