Outgrowing Things We Love Is Never A

I Believe I've Put Forth A Tiny Soul-root Into Kingsport Soil This Afternoon. I Hope So. I Hate To Feel Transplanted.

I Read Somewhere Once That Souls Were Like Flowers,' Said Priscilla. 'then Your Soul Is A Golden Narcissus,' Said Anne, 'and Diana's Is Like A Red, Red Rose. Jane's Is An Apple Blossom, Pink And Wholesome And Sweet.' 'and Our Own Is A White Violet, With Purple Streaks In Its Heart,' Finished Priscilla.

It's Dreadful What Little Things Lead People To Misunderstand Each Other.

She Had Never Before Minded Being Alone. Now She Dreaded It. When She Was Alone Now She Felt So Dreadfully Alone.

Facts Are Stubborn Things, But, As Some One Has Wisely Said, Not Half So Stubborn As Fallacies.