One can only believe entirely, perhaps, in what one cannot see.

“The cold stream of visual impressions failed him now as if the eye were a cup t…”

“They were boastful, triumphant; it seemed to both that they had read every book…”

“Here was a woman about the year 1800 writing without hate, without bitterness, …”

“All the months are crude experiments out of which the perfect September is made.”