My Life Is A Perfect Graveyard Of

She Had Never Before Minded Being Alone. Now She Dreaded It. When She Was Alone Now She Felt So Dreadfully Alone.

An Old House With Its Windows Gone Always Makes Me Think Of Something Dead With Its Eyes Picked Out.

Rebellion Flamed Up In Her Soul As The Dark Hours Passed By – Not Because She Had No Future But Because She Had No Past.

I'm So Glad My Window Looks East Into The Sunrising- It's So Splendid To See The Morning Coming Up Over Those Long Hills And Glowing Through Those Sharp Fir Tops. It's New Every Morning, And I Feel As If I Washed My Very Soul In That Bath Of Earliest Sunshine.

She Had...the Glimmerings Of A Sense Of Humour - Which Is Simply Another Name For A Sense Of The Fitness Of Things.