Description Begins In The Writer’s Imagination, But

God Always Punishes Us For What We Can't Imagine.

City Life Is No Life For A Country Man; For Such A Man That Life Is A Kind Of Damnation In Itself.

She Did Not Know If Her Gift Came From The Lord Of Light Or Of Darkness, And Now, Finally Finding That She Didn't Care Which, She Wad Overcome With Almost Indescribable Relief, As If A Huge Weight, Long Carried, Had Slipped From Her Shoulders.

The Dream Didn't Fade As Dreams Usually Do Upon Waking.

They Were Nice Enough People And All, But There Wasn't Much Love In Them. Because They Were Too Busy Being Afraid. Love Didn't Grow Very Well In A Place Where There Was Only Fear, Just As Plants Didn't Grow Very Well In A Place Where It Was Always Dark.