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Home: The Toast

“Do you think amethysts can be the souls of good violets?”
grimace


“Will you swear to be my friend for ever and ever?”
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“We must join hands, so. It ought to be over running water. We’ll just imagine this path is running water. I’ll repeat the oath first. I solemnly swear to be faithful to my bosom friend as long as the sun and moon shall endure. Now you say it and put my name in.”
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“My heart is broken. You’ll feel remorse of conscience some day, I expect, for breaking it, but I forgive you. Remember when the time comes that I forgive you.”
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“Wilt thou give me a lock of thy jet-black tresses in parting to treasure forevermore?”
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“And the ghost of a little murdered child haunts the corner up by Idlewild; it creeps up behind you and lays its cold fingers on your hand–so.”
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“She wanted to be the fairy queen. That would have been ridiculous, for who ever heard of a fairy queen as fat as Josie? Fairy queens must be slender.”
ds


“I’ve always imagined that my name was Cordelia–at least, I always have of late years. When I was young I used to imagine it was Geraldine, but I like Cordelia better now. But if you call me Anne please call me Anne spelled with an e.”
tom


“Diana and I are thinking seriously of promising each other that we will never marry but be nice old maids and live together forever.”
oprah-sad-yes


“Do you know what I think Mayflowers are? I think they must be the souls of the flowers that died last summer and this is their heaven.”
mmm


“Oh, look, what a lovely rainbow! Do you suppose the dryad will come out after we go away and take it for a scarf?”
gag


“Oh, here we are at the bridge. I’m going to shut my eyes tight. I’m always afraid going over bridges. I can’t help imagining that perhaps, just as we get to the middle, they’ll crumple up like a jackknife and nip us. So I shut my eyes. But I always have to open them for all when I think we’re getting near the middle. Because, you see, if the bridge did crumple up I’d want to see it crumple.”
shivers


“I was thinking of the loveliest story about you and me. I thought you were desperately ill with smallpox and everybody deserted you, but I went boldly to your bedside and nursed you back to life; and then I took the smallpox and died and I was buried under those poplar trees in the graveyard and you planted a rosebush by my grave and watered it with your tears; and you never, never forgot the friend of your youth who sacrificed her life for you.”

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