When I Make Up My Mind To

Valancy Herself Had Never Quite Relinquished A Certain Pitiful, Shamed, Little Hope That Romance Would Come Her Way Yet - Never, Until This Wet, Horrible Morning, When She Wakened To The Fact That She Was Twenty-nine And Unsought By Any Man. Ay, There Lay The Sting. Valancy Did Not Mind So Much Being An Old Maid. After All, She Thought, Being An Old Maid Couldn’t Possibly Be As Dreadful As Being Married To An Uncle Wellignton Or An Uncle Benjamin, Or Even An Uncle Herbert. What Hurt Her Was That She Had Never Had A Chance To Be Anything But An Old Maid.

Hark, I Hear A Robin Calling! List, The Wind Is From The South! And The Orchard-bloom Is Falling Sweet As Kisses On The Mouth. In The Dreamy Vale Of Beeches Fair And Faint Is Woven Mist, And The River's Orient Reaches Are The Palest Amethyst. Every Limpid Brook Is Singing Of The Lure Of April Days; Every Piney Glen Is Ringing With The Maddest Roundelays. Come And Let Us Seek Together Springtime Lore Of Daffodils, Giving To The Golden Weather Greeting On The Sun-warm Hills.

There Is No Use In Loving Things If You Have To Be Torn From Them, Is There? And It's So Hard To Keep From Loving Things, Isn't It?

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.

I Feel As If Something Has Been Torn Suddenly Out Of My Life And Left A Terrible Hole. I Feel As If I Couldn't Be I — As If I Must Have Changed Into Somebody Else And Couldn't Get Used To It. It Gives Me A Horrible Lonely, Dazed, Helpless Feeling. It's Good To See You Again — It Seems As If You Were A Sort Of Anchor For My Drifting Soul.