Well now, to go walking by oneself all day--to get on to that track and follow it up between the bushes--or are they small trees ?--to the top of that mountain from which one can see half the nations of antiquity-- "Yes," said Jacob, for his carriage was empty, "let's look at the map." Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.

To gallop intemperately; fall on the sand tired out; to feel the earth spin; to have--positively--a rush of friendship for stones and grasses, as if humanity were over, and as for men and women, let them go hang--there is no getting over the fact that this desire seizes us pretty often.
The evening air slightly moved the dirty curtains in the hotel window at Olympia.
"I am full of love for every one," thought Mrs.Wentworth Williams, "-- for the poor most of all--for the peasants coming back in the evening with their burdens.

And everything is soft and vague and very sad.

It is sad, it is sad.

But everything has meaning," thought Sandra Wentworth Williams, raising her head a little and looking very beautiful, tragic, and exalted.