It watches," he added suddenly. "The house. It watches every move you make.

On the moon we wore feathers in our hair, and rubies on our hands. On the moon we had gold spoons.

I wonder if I could eat a child if I had the chance.' 'I doubt if I could cook one,' said Constance.

In the country of the story the writer is king.

Journeys end in lovers meeting; I have spent an all but sleepless night, I have told lies and made a fool of myself, and the very air tastes like wine. I have been frightened half out of my foolish wits, but I have somehow earned this joy; I have been waiting for it for so long.

I shall weave a suit of leaves. At once. With acorns for buttons.

She had taken to wondering lately, during these swift-counted years, what had been done with all those wasted summer days; how could she have spent them so wantonly? I am foolish, she told herself early every summer, I am very foolish; I am grown up now and know the values of things. Nothing is ever really wasted, she believed sensibly, even one's childhood, and then each year, one summer morning, the warm wind would come down the city street where she walked and she would be touched with the little cold thought: I have let more time go by.