Rouen shone in dark sunlight and a storm swept it away from my eyes and churned up the broad river with waves which pounced up like cats as our train drew out of the arches of the bridge.
Reason is a poor hand at prophecies.
And another day is tucked under my wing.
cooking is the most succulent of human pleasures.
All encounters with children are touched with social embarrassment.
I have an idea that conscience impedes quite as many merits as faults, is a sort of alloy, a nickel which may prevent silver from bending but also prevents it from shining.