Another sigh came from the window — quite a resigned sigh. 'She's life and hope and happiness, my whole world now.' He felt the quiver of a tear on h… - F. Scott Fitzgerald

The great tapestries of trees had darkened to ghosts back at the last edge of twilight. The early moon had drenched the arches with pale blue, and, weaving over the night, in and out of the gossamer rifts of moon, swept a song, a song with more than a hint of sadness, infinitely transient, infinitely regretful.

I had taken two finger-bowls of champagne, and the scene had changed before my eyes into something significant, elemental, and profound.

It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again.