Our tree became the talking tree of the fairy tale; legends and stories nestled like birds in its branches.

This is reality, whether you like it or not--all those frivolities of summer, the light and shadow, the living mask of green that trembled over everything, they were lies, and this is what was underneath. This is the truth.

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

All Southern women wished of their menfolk was simply to be 'like Paris handsome and like Hector brave'.

Yes, and because we grow old we become more and more the stuff our forbears put into us. I can feel his savagery strengthen in me. We think we are so individual and so misunderstood when we are young; but the nature our strain of blood carries is inside there, waiting, like our skeleton.

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

There is often a good deal of the child left in people who have had to grow up too soon.