Prayers Said By Good People Are Always

In Haverford On The Platte The Townspeople Still Talk Of Lucy Gayheart.

I Was Thinking, As I Watched Her, How Little It Mattered –about Her Teeth For Instance. I Know So Many Women Who Have Kept All The Things She Had Lost, *but Whose Inner Glow Has Faded*. Whatever Else Was Gone, Antonia Had Not Lost The Fire Of Life.

Too Much Information Is Rather Deadening.

I Like Trees Because They Seem More Resigned To The Way They Have To Live Than Other Things Do. I Feel As If This Tree Knows Everything I Ever Think Of When I Sit Here. When I Come Back To It, I Never Have To Remind It Of Anything; I Begin Just Where I Left Off.

The Sky Was A Midnight-blue, Like Warm, Deep, Blue Water, And The Moon Seemed To Lie On It Like A Water-lily, Floating Forward With An Invisible Current.