Silence Sat In The Taxi, As Though

Intimacies Between Women Often Go Backwards, Beginning In Revelations And Ending In Small Talk.

...there Must Be Something She Wanted; And That Therefore She Was No Lady.

The Child Lives In The Book; But Just As Much The Book Lives In The Child.

She Had One Of Those Charming Faces Which, According To The Angle From Which You See Them, Look Either Melancholy Or Impertinent. Her Eyes Were Grey; Her Trick Of Narrowing Them Made Her Seem To Reflect, The Greater Part Of The Time, In The Dusk Of Her Second Thoughts. With That Mood, That Touch Of Arriere Pensee, Went An Uncertain, Speaking Set Of Lips.

A Bowen, In The First Place, Made Bowen's Court. Since Then, With A Rather Alarming Sureness, Bowen's Court Has Made All The Succeeding Bowens.