And now more than anything I want beautiful prose. I relish it more and more exquisitely.

“she often went into her garden and got from her flowers a peace which men and w…”

“[She was singing] a senseless singsong, so that several park keepers looked at …”

“And it was cowardly for a man to say he would kill himself, but Septimus had fo…”

“Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.”