Women are used to worrying over trifles.

That’s the worst of a war – you have to go on hearing about it so long.

Two people do not really live together until their books become one library. You have known just how to classify your own – books you have had, some of them since you were eleven years old. Strange now to have them adapting themselves to the books of some one else – these two life-histories becoming one, two pasts uniting.

Even though you’ve given up a past it hasn’t given you up. It comes uninvited – and sometimes half welcome.

Some days are happy days – of themselves, as if for their own sakes. They seem to be enjoying themselves, regardless of what use may be made of them.

I go about in the world – free, busy, happy. Among people, I have no time to think of myself.

You’re convinced that there was nothing important here – nothing that would point to any motive. SHERIFF: Nothing here but kitchen things.

I – I’ve never liked this place. Maybe because it’s down in a hollow and you don’t see the road.

She – come to think of it, she was kind of like a bird herself – real sweet and pretty, but kind of timid and – fluttery.

I wonder if she was goin’ to quilt it or just knot it?