The silence in the room had width, height, depth, mass and substance.

Isn't it mysterious to begin a new journal like this? I can run my fingers through the fresh clean pages but I cannot guess what the writing on them will be.

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.

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

Betsy. The great war is on but I hope ours is over. Please come home. Joe.

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.

The silence in the room had width, height, depth, mass and substance.