February, when the days of winter seem endless and no amount of wistful recollecting can bring back any air of summer.
Shirley JacksonLet him be wise, or let me be blind; don't let me, she hoped concretely, don't let me know too surely what he thinks of me.
Shirley JacksonToday my winged horse is coming and I am carrying you off to the moon and on the moon we will eat rose petals.
Shirley Jackson