She started thinking about all the euphemisms for death, all the anxious taboos that had always fascinated her. It was too bad you could never have an intelligent discussion on the subject. People were either too young or too old, or else they didn't have time.

All things are so very uncertain, and that's exactly what makes me feel reassured.

It is still summer, but the summer is no longer alive. It has come to a standstill; nothing withers, and fall is not ready to begin. There are no stars yet, just darkness.

I mean, anyone can let Danger out but the really clever thing is finding somewhere for it to go afterwards.

But he thought all the strange words were beautiful, and he had never had a book of his own before.

One must use the night.

Quite, quite,' she thought with a little sigh. 'It's always like this in their adventures. To save and be saved. I wish somebody would write a story sometime about the people who warm up the heroes afterward.