The wastes of snow on the hill were ghostly in the moonlight. The stars were piercingly bright.

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.

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

Do you girls have hope chests?' Lloyd asked. We certainly do.' I don't,' said Betsy. 'My husband and I are going to use paper plates and napkins.' Poor Joe!' Lucky Larry!

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

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

I cannot remember back to a year in which I did not consider myself to be a writer, and the younger I was the bigger that capital 'W.