The heart’s seasons seldom coincide with the calendar. Who among us has not been made desolate beyond all words upon some golden day when the little creatures of the air and meadow were life incarnate,...

The river itself portrays humanity precisely, with its tortuous windings, its accumulation of driftwood, its unsuspected depths, and its crystalline shallows, singing in the Summer sun. Barriers may be built across its path, but they...

You stand alone upon a height,” he said, dreamily, “like one in a dreary land. Behind you all is darkness, before you all is darkness; there is but one small space of light. In that...