April, The Angel Of The Months, The

It Always Seemed To Me That The Herbaceous Peony Is The Very Epitome Of June. Larger Than Any Rose, It Has Something Of The Cabbage Rose's Voluminous Quality; And When It Finally Drops From The Vase, It Sheds Its Petticoats With A Bump On The Table, All In An Intact Heap, Much As A Rose Will Suddenly Fall, Making Us Look Up From Our Book Or Conversation, To Notice For One Moment The Death Of What Had Still Appeared To Be A Living Beauty.

Serenity Of Spirit And Turbulence Of Action Should Make Up The Sum Of A Man's Life.

One Must Be Businesslike, Although The Glass Is Falling.

Travel Is In Sad Case. It Is Uncomfortable, It Is Expensive; It Is A Source Of Annoyance To Our Friends, And Of Loneliness To Ourselves.

Of Course I Should Love To Throw A Toothbrush Into A Bag, And Just Go, Quite Vaguely, Without Any Plans Or Even A Real Destination. It Is The Wanderlust.