You have no dower," he said. "Live, Keturah. Go home." "But I do have a dower," I said plainly. "This is my dower, Lord Death; the crown of flowers I will never wear at my wedding." He knelt on one knee before me. "The little house I would have had of my own, to furnish and clean. That, too, is part of my dower." "I will give you the world for your footstool," he said. "And most precious of all, I give you the wee baby I will never hold in my arms.

Demonstrate talent, said Grandmother often to me, and you will still be loved by a husband when beauty has faded.

You, my lord, are the ending of all true stories.

Each man, when he dies, sees the landscape of his own soul.

And so he did his endless work,' I continued quietly, 'without feeling, without pity, without rest, for to open his heart to these would be to open his heart to his loneliness and longing and that was beyond bearing.

You have no dower," he said. "Live, Keturah. Go home." "But I do have a dower," I said plainly. "This is my dower, Lord Death; the crown of flowers I will never wear at my wedding." He knelt on one knee before me. "The little house I would have had of my own, to furnish and clean. That, too, is part of my dower." "I will give you the world for your footstool," he said. "And most precious of all, I give you the wee baby I will never hold in my arms.

Papa loves you with a dying and infernal love," the youngest girl said. "Undying," the eldest girl corrected. "And eternal.