I Wanted So Terribly To Be Good

I Found It Quite Easy To Carry On A Casual Conversation It Was As If My Real Feelings Were Down Fathoms Deep In My Mind And What We Said Was Just A Feathery Surface Spray.

How I Wish I Lived In A Jane Austen Novel!

Walking Down Belmotte Was The Oddest Sensation-- Every Step Took Us Deeper Into The Mist Until At Last It Closed Over Our Heads. It Was Like Being Drowned In The Ghost Of Water.

I Believe It Is Customary To Get One's Washing Over First In Baths And Bask Afterwards; Personally, I Bask First. I Have Discovered That The First Few Minutes Are The Best And Not To Be Wasted-- My Brain Always Seethes With Ideas And Life Suddenly Looks Much Better Than Did.

They Call Them The Haunted Shores, These Stretches Of Devonshire And Cornwall And Ireland Which Rear Up Against The Westward Ocean. Mists Gather Here, And Sea Fog, And Eerie Stories. That's Not Because There Are More Ghosts Here Than In Other Places, Mind You. It's Just That People Who Live Hereabouts Are Strangely Aware Of Them.