Human Nature Is Not Obliged To Be

It Was November--the Month Of Crimson Sunsets, Parting Birds, Deep, Sad Hymns Of The Sea, Passionate Wind-songs In The Pines. Anne Roamed Through The Pineland Alleys In The Park And, As She Said, Let That Great Sweeping Wind Blow The Fogs Out Of Her Soul.

I Like To Hear A Storm At Night. It Is So Cosy To Snuggle Down Among The Blankets And Feel That It Can't Get At You.

…determined To Enjoy Her Luxury Of Grief Uncomforted.

Heaven Grant Me Patience! Clothes Are Very Important," Said Anne Severely

I'm Sure I Shall Always Feel Like A Child In The Wood.