Some people could look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships.

Look lak she been livin' through uh hundred years in January without one day of spring.

Janie saw her life like a great tree in leaf with the things suffered, things enjoyed, things done and undone. Dawn and doom was in the branches

She was saving up feelings for some man she had never seen.

You have no idea, sir, how difficult it is to be the victim of benevolence.

The sun, the hero of every day, the impersonal old man that beams as brightly on death as on birth, came up every morning.

She had waited all her life for something, and it had killed her when it found her.