The Beauty Of Winter Is That It

I Have A Dream," He Said Slowly. "i Persist In Dreaming It, Although It Has Often Seemed To Me That It Could Never Come True. I Dream Of A Home With A Hearth-fire In It, A Cat And Dog, The Footsteps Of Friends -- And You!

I Don't Want Sunbursts And Marble Halls. I Just Want You. Sunbursts And Marble Halls May Be All Very Well, But There Is More 'scope For Imagination' Without Them. And As For The Waiting, That Doesn't Matter. We'll Just Be Happy, Waiting And Working For Each Other—and Dreaming. Oh, Dreams Will Be Very Sweet Now.

I Have Learned To Look Upon Each Little Hindrance As A Jest And Each Great One As A Foreshadowing Of Victory.

Besides, I've Been Feeling A Little Blue — Just A Pale, Elusive Azure. It Isn't Serious Enough For Anything Darker.

It Was Less Humiliating To Admit Crying Because Of Your Feet Than Because - Because Somebody Had Been Amusing Himself With You And Your Friends Had Forgotten You, And Other People Patronised You.