I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets.
I've always been more afraid of being left alone or left out than of things that go bump in the night.
There is a large stock on hand; but somehow or other, nobody's experience ever suits us but our own.

