Time Takes The Ugliness And Horror Out

The Family - That Dear Octopus From Whose Tentacles We Never Quite Escape, Nor, In Our Inmost Hearts, Ever Quite Wish To.

I Should Rather Like To Tear These Last Pages Out Of The Book. Shall I? No-a Journal Ought Not To Cheat.

I Suppose The Best Kind Of Spring Morning Is The Best Weather God Has To Offer.

Death Is Too Much To Ask Of The Living.

I Could Hear Rain Still Pouring From The Gutters And A Thin Branch Scraping Against One Of The Windows; But The Church Seemed Completely Cut Off From The Restless Day Outside--just As I Felt Cut Off From The Church. I Thought: I Am A Restlessness Inside A Stillness Inside A Restlessness.