“It's dreadful what little things lead people to misunderstand each other.”
“You see," she concluded miserably, "when I can call like that to him across space--I belong to him. He doesn't love me--he never will--but I belong to him.”
“Why did dusk and fir-scent and the afterglow of autumnal sunsets make people say absurd things?”
“Never be silent with persons you love and distrust," Mr. Carpenter had said once. "Silence betrays.”
“Night is beautiful when you are happy--comforting when you are in grief--terrible when you are lonely and unhappy.”
“The ghosts of things that never happened are worse than the ghosts of things that did.”
“A house isn't a home without the ineffable contentment of a cat with its tail folded about its feet. A cat gives mystery, charm, suggestion.”
“Don't let a three-o'clock-at-night feeling fog your soul.”
“I went up on the hill and walked about until twilight had deepened into an autumn night with a benediction of starry quietude over it. I was alone but not lonely. I was a queen in halls of fancy.”
“Since ever the world was spinning
And till the world shall end
You've your man in the beginning
Or you have him in the end,
But to have him from start to finish
And neither nor borrow nor lend
Is what all of the girls are wanting
And none of the gods can send”
“Most young men are such bores. They haven't lived long enough to learn that they are not the wonders to the world they are to their mothers.”
“This afternoon I sat at my window and alternately wrote at my new serial and watched a couple of dear, amusing, youngish maple-trees at the foot of the garden. They whispered secrets to each other all the afternoon. They would bend together and talk earnestly for a few moments, then spring back and look at each other, throwing up their hands comically in horror and amazement over their mutual revelations. I wonder what new scandal is afoot in Treeland.”
“If the bards of old the true has told
The sirens have raven hair.
But over the earth since art had birth,
They paint the angels fair.”
“Oh, I don't wonder babies always cry when they wake up in the night. So often I want to do it too.”
“An old house that had lived its life long ago and so was very quiet and wise and a little mysterious. Also a little austere, but very kind.”
“Can you expect me to be just when you've just killed me? Oh, I know I asked for it--I know it's good for me. Horrible things always are good for you, I suppose. After you've been killed a few times you don't mind it. But the first time one does--squirm. Go away, Dean. Don't come back for a week at least. The funeral will be over then."
"Don't you believe I know what this means to you, Star?" asked Dean pityingly.
"You can't--altogether. Oh, I know you're sympathetic. I don't want sympathy. I only want time to bury myself decently.”
“Such presumption," said Aunt Laura, meaning for a Dix to aspire to a Murray. "It wasn't because of his presumption I packed him off," said Emily. "It was because of the way he made love. He made a thing ugly that should have been beautiful." "I suppose you wouldn't have him because he didn't propose romantically," said Aunt Elizabeth contemptuously. "No. I think my real reason was that I felt sure he was the kind of man who would give his wife a vacuum cleaner for a Christmas present," vowed Emily.”
“I can always get through to-day very nicely. It's to-morrow I can't live through”
“Stop a bit and think it over. There do be some knots mighty aisy to tie but the untying is a cat of a different brade.”
“I stopped in St. Bernadette's Cemetery one of my favorite places... The trunks of six giant oaks rise like columns supporting a ceiling formed by their interlocking crowns. In the quiet space below, is laid out an aisle similar to those in any library. The gravestones are like rows of books bearing the names of those whose names have been blotted from the pages of life; who have been forgotten elsewhere but are remembered here.”
“Seven, ten, fifteen, eighteen years old and still there is nothing finer than a blank sheet of paper, the white promise that the world can be what I make it. A magical place, an adventurous place, a possible place. Erasers take away the mistakes. Another coat of paint to cover them up. Black and red and purple and blue. Always Blue.”
“expression, of mingled anger and disinterest, didn’t change. “Hello,” I said. She scowled. “Who’re you?” She didn’t recognize me. I dismounted Butter, landing carefully on my good left foot. I untied my crutches from the back of the saddle and swung myself forward, over the garden wall. “I’m Ada,” I said. Her expression turned to outrage as she realized who I was. “What the ’ell’s this?” she said. “Just who do you think”
“Jocelyn was dumbstruck. She couldn’t think of a single thing
she’d done that might give that impression. “I don’t.”
“As time passed, Michael lost a little faith that he would ever have the love he wanted.”
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