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368 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1946
I have seen too the sea-mists of early summer turn the hill to fantasy, so that it becomes, in a single second, a ghost land of enchantment, with no sounds coming but the wash of breakers on the hidden beach, where, at high noon, the children gather cowrie shells. Dark moods too of bleak November, when the rain sweeps in a curtain from the south-west. But, quietest of all, the evenings of late summer, when the sun has set, and the moon has not yet risen, but the dew is heavy in the long grass.
The sea is very white and still, without a breath upon it, and only a single thread of wash upon the covered Cannis rock. The jackdaws fly homeward to their nests in the warren. The sheep crop the short turf, before they too rub together beneath the stone wall by the winnowing place. Dusk comes slowly to the Gribben hill, the woods turn black, and suddenly, with stealthy pad, a fox creeps from the trees in the thistle park, and stands watching me, his ears pricked. . . ."(p.227)
"my old hidden dreams that I thought buried for all time lie bare and naked to the day, just as the shells and the stones do on the sands"
"Resignation brings its own reward"
"We change from the awakening questing creatures we were once, afire with wonder, and expectancy, and doubt, to persons of opinion and authority, our habits formed, our characters moulded in a pattern"
"we only become aware of hot discomfort when others are made awkward for our sakes."
"Richard turned and saw me. And as he looked at me it was as if my whole heart moved over in my body and was mine no longer"
"Did you never try," I asked, "to make some life of happiness?"
"Happiness was not in question," he said; "that went with you, a factor you refused to recognise."
"but fate and circumstance had made me no more than a shadow in his life, a phantom of what might have been"