Her intellect and heart had their home, as it were, in desert places, where she roamed as freely as the wild Indian in his woods. - Nathaniel Hawthorne

Growing as they did, however, out of the old earth, the flowers still sent a fresh and sweet incense up to their Creator...

In a word, the heavy weight upon his spirits kept everything in order, not merely within his own system, but wheresoever the iron accents of the church clock were audible.

But, nevertheless, it is anything but agreeable to be haunted by a suspicion that one's intellect is dwindling away, or exhaling, without your consciousness, like ether out of a phial; so that, at every glance, you find a smaller and less volatile residuum.