A Dreamer, I Walked Enchanted, And Nothing

I Would Not Be Young Again, If You Offered Me The World. But Then I'm Prejudiced.' 'you Talk,' I Said, 'as If You Were Ninety-nine.' 'for A Woman I Very Nearly Am,' She Said. 'i'm Thirty Five.

There's Something About Paris That Gives You A Mental Slap All The Time, And You Can't Just Sit Still And Do Nothing. You've Got To Work, To Keep Up With The Pace, The Sting In The Atmosphere.

...as The Slow Sea Sucked At The Shore And Then Withdrew, Leaving The Strip Of Seaweed Bare And The Shingle Churned, The Sea Birds Raced And Ran Upon The Beaches. Then That Same Impulse To Flight Seized Upon Them Too. Crying, Whistling, Calling, They Skimmed The Placid Sea And Left The Shore. Make Haste, Make Speed, Hurry And Begone; Yet Where, And To What Purpose? The Restless Urge Of Autumn, Unsatisfying, Sad, Had Put A Spell Upon Them And They Must Flock, And Wheel, And Cry; They Must Spill Themselves Of Motion Before Winter Came.

If Only There Could Be An Invention That Bottled Up A Memory, Like Scent. And It Never Faded, And It Never Got Stale. And Then, When One Wanted It, The Bottle Could Be Uncorked, And It Would Be Like Living The Moment All Over Again.

No, Mary Had No Illusions About Romance. Falling In Love Was A Pretty Name For It, That Was All.