There came to port last Sunday night the queerest little craft, without an inch of rigging on; I looked and looked - and laughed. It seemed so curious that she should cross the unknown water, and moor herself within my room - my daughter! O my daughter!
“There is no tragedy in missing a putt, no matter how short. All have erred in this respect.”
“It feels quite cool, in a mad way, to be someone who skulks about in the shadows.”