Not Seeing Is Half-believing.

Summer Makes A Silence After Spring.

Things Were Not Tragic For Us Then, Because Although We Cared Passionately We Didn't Care Deeply.

[on Writing:] The Most Egotistic Of Occupations, And The Most Gratifying While It Lasts.

Click, Clack, Click, Clack, Went Their Conversation, Like So Many Knitting-needles, Purl, Plain, Purl, Plain, Achieving A Complex Pattern Of References, Cross-references, Christian Names, Nicknames, And Fleeting Allusions.

I Like Owls. I Admire Their Intransigent Spirit. I Have Respected Them Deeply Ever Since I Met A Baby Owl In A Wood, When It Fell Over Dead, Apparently From Sheer Temper, Because I Dared To Approach It. It Defied Me First, And Then Died. I Have Never Forgotten The Horror And Shame I Experienced When That Soft Fluffy Thing (towards Which I Had Nothing But The Most Humanitarian Motives) Fell Dead From Rage At My Feet.