As Long As She Was Falling In

. . .i Really Ought To Have Recognized It For What It Was And, Perhaps, To Have Stopped Right There - For It Was Nostalgia, And What Inspires Nostalgia Has Been Dead A Long Time

Drunk, Jane Spoke As Though She Were Nancy Drew. I Was A Fool For A Girl With A Dainty Lexicon.

His Dreams Had Always Been Houdiniesque: They Were The Dreams Of A Pupa Struggling In Its Blind Cocoon, Mad For A Taste Of Light And Air.

No; He Could Be Ruined Again And Again By Hope, But He Would Never Be Capable Of Belief.

The Whole House Seemed To Exhale A Melancholy Breath Of Emptiness