At one moment we deplore our birth and state and aspire to an ascetic exaltation; the next we are overcome by the smell of some old garden path and weep to hear the thrushes sing.

“It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy.”

“There were mountains; there were valleys; there were streams. She climbed the m…”

“There is nothing staid, nothing settled, in this universe. All is rippling, all…”

“There must be another life, she thought, sinking back into her chair, exasperat…”