It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

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

It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

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.

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.

Come in early, so there'll be time to pop corn,' Mrs. Ray said. If she mentioned popping corn, they always came in early. So she usually mentioned it.

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