God! Whose Hand Was I Holding?

February, When The Days Of Winter Seem Endless And No Amount Of Wistful Recollecting Can Bring Back Any Air Of Summer.

Don't Do It, Eleanor Told The Little Girl; Insist On Your Cup Of Stars; Once They Have Trapped You Into Being Like Everyone Else You Will Never See Your Cup Of Stars Again; Don't Do It; And The Little Girl Glanced At Her, And Smiled A Little Subtle, Dimpling, Wholly Comprehending Smile, And Shook Her Head Stubbornly At The Glass. Brave Girl, Eleanor Thought; Wise, Brave Girl.

It Is Only With The Eyes Open That A Corporeal Form Returns, And Assembles Itself Firmly Around The Hard Core Of Sight.

We Moved Together Very Slowly Toward The House, Trying To Understand Its Ugliness And Ruin And Shame.

Certainly There Are Spots Which Inevitably Attach To Themselves An Atmosphere Of Holiness And Goodness; It Might Not Then Be Too Fanciful To Say That Some Houses Are Born Bad.