a jail cell, or the one about a city filled with crystal cathedrals. Then she sits down and looks around; ... her feathers too, now discolored. And she sits here very straight for a few hours, proud and sure of ... herself-beautiful and mysterious like a cathedral in ruins­ with a brandy on the rocks in her hands, smiling ...

some words to comfort him. I looked at my wife and she was crying and then I started to tear up. ... I looked at our daughter who, at twenty-one, shared none of our memories of war, its destructions, or the ... peculiar, restorative beauty of this little poem. In this way, she was no different than most Americans or, ...

in New York City, not even in Cincinnati, but in Champlain, in the dean's hundred-year-old ... house, gazing at the dean's beautiful flush-faced wife.... In the candlelight her eyes looked ... strong, too powerful for her mouth.... But no, really she was beautiful, perfect. He could see that. He ...