Americans Do Seem To Say

Walking Down Belmotte Was The Oddest Sensation-- Every Step Took Us Deeper Into The Mist Until At Last It Closed Over Our Heads. It Was Like Being Drowned In The Ghost Of Water.

Was I The Only Woman In The World Who, At My Age - And After A Lifetime Of Quite Rampant Independence - Still Did Not Quite Feel Grown Up?

There Was A Wonderful Atmosphere Of Gentle Age, A Smell Of Flowers And Beeswax, Sweet Yet Faintly Sour And Musty; A Smell That Makes You Feel Very Tender Towards The Past.

It's A Beautiful Sight To See Good Dancers Doing Simple Steps. It's A Painful Sight To See Beginners Doing Complicated Patterns.

What A Tiny List Of Friends I Have! All My Fault. I Less And Less Want To See People.