To understand is pain and joy in one; to misconceive is to scatter broken glass for bare feet.

Yet when I laid her away, a few years ago, I had terrible pangs of regret, which must come to the heart that has striven in vain.

I did my best; I tried to make her understand, but she never did.

I used at first to feel angry; then I became patient.

But I waked up again, and went smiling along, active, vigorous, getting pleasure out of the infinitely small things, and happy in perfecting my organization.
This place, which I have called Moira, is to be yours--or, rather, Sheila's.