I'm finished with something, but I'm not beginning anything. That's wrong. When you finish something, you ought always to begin something new.

I'm finished with something, but I'm not beginning anything. That's wrong. When you finish something, you ought always to begin something new.

She tried to act as though it were nothing to go to the library alone. But her happiness betrayed her. Her smile could not be restrained, and it spread from her tightly pressed mouth, to her round cheeks, almost to the hair ribbons tied in perky bows over her ears.

One strain could call up the quivering expectancy of Christmas Eve, childhood, joy and sadness, the lonely wonder of a star

We'll just have to find more flowers in the spring. That's when they bloom, tra la.

And yet, even as she spoke, she knew that she did not wish to come back. not to stay, not to live. She loved the little yellow cottage more than she loved any place on earth. but she was through with it except in her memories.

In silence the three of them looked at the sunset and thought about God.