The Story Is Always Better Than Your

Your Attitude Is Perhaps A Little Unnecessarily Rigorous," Suggested Jack.

...and Again She Wished For Sherwood, And The Dappled Roof Of Leaves That Never Weighed Upon Her. She Pulled Her Scarf Closer Around Her And Thought, I Would Rather Live In A Hut In The Woods; A Hut Like The One Of My First Memories, With A Clean-swept Dirt Floor, And A Brown-eyed Boy Watching Me From Behind His Mother's Skirts As I Watched Him From Behind Mine.

Feeling At Peace, However Fragilely, Made It Easy To Slip Into The Visionary End Of The Dark-sight. The Rose Shadows Said That They Loved The Sun, But That They Also Loved The Dark, Where Their Roots Grew Through The Lightless Mystery Of The Earth. The Roses Said: You Do Not Have To Choose.

He Looked At Her Rather As A Man Looks At A Problem That He Would Very Much Prefer To Do Without. She Supposed It Was A Distinction Of A Sort To Be A Harassment To A King.

It Doesn't Matter If I'm Only To Be Gone Four Days, As In This Case; I Take Six Months' Supply Of Reading Material Everywhere. Anyone Who Needs Further Explication Of This Eccentricity Can Find It Usefully Set Out In The First Pages Of W. Somerset Maugham's Story "the Book-bag.