The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify - it was like the light of truth itself.

Today I stood taller from walking among the trees.

Youth, art, love, dreams, true-heartedness - why must they go out of the summer world into darkness?

Now that Stevenson is dead I can think of but one English- speaking author who is really keeping his self-respect and sticking forperfection. Of course I refer to that mighty master of language and keen student of human actions and motives, Henry James.

Love itself draws on a woman nearly all the bad luck in the world

Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.

The two friends stood for a few moments on the windy street corner, not speaking a word, as two travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand and admit their perplexity in silence. (O Pioneers!)