That was enough.

For me she will always wear that look, that frock, that clumsy gait.

Recollections, my good uncle, are not unlike instantaneous photographs; and this one is a distinct negative to your designs.
March 3d.
The year is getting on.

My essay is growing.

The Junian Latin emerges from the fogs of Tiber.
I have had to return to the National Library.