Was life always like that? she wondered. A game of hide and seek in which you only occasionally found the person you wanted to be?

Good things come, but they're never perfect; are they? You have to twist them into something perfect.

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.

She thought of the library, so shining white and new; the rows and rows of unread books; the bliss of unhurried sojourns there and of going out to a restaurant, alone, to eat.

When there are boys you have to worry about how you look, and whether they like you, and why they like another girl better, and whether they're going to ask you to something or other. It's a strain.

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.