For The Moment I Can Only Cry

There Is A Moment—oh, Just Before The First Kiss, A Whispered Word—something That Makes It Worth While.

The Exhilarating Ripple Of Her Voice Was A Wild Tonic In The Rain.

Taking Her Hand He Led Her Out Into A Broad Stretch Of Hard Sandy Soil That The Moon Flooded With Great Splendor. They Floated Out Like Drifting Moths Under The Rich Hazy Light, And As The Fantastic Symphony Wept And Exulted And Wavered And Despaired, Ardita's Last Sense Of Reality Dropped Away, And She Abandonded Her Imagination To The Dreamy Summer Scents Of Tropial Flowers And The Infinite Starry Spaces Overhead, Feeling That If She Opened Her Eyes It Would Be To Find Herself Dancing With A Ghost In A Land Created By Her Own Fantasy.

No One Person In The World Is Necessary To You Or To Me.

Englishmen Must Have An Island.