Yes$$$ it was possible that the little world$$$ on its voyage among all the stars$$$ might become like that; a boat on which one could travel no longer$$$ from which one could no longer look up and confront those bright rings of revolution.

Theoretically he knew that life is possible$$$ may even be pleasant$$$ without joy$$$ without passionate griefs. But it had never occurred to him that he might have to live like that.

We will never lose the land.

And I advise ye to think well$$$ he told her. "It's better to be a stray dog in this world than a man without money. I've tried it both ways$$$ and I know. A poor man stinks$$$ and God hates him."

Doctrine is well enough for the wise$$$ Jean; but the miracle is something we can hold in our hands and love.

He knew he would always remember her$$$ standing there with that expectant$$$ forward-looking smile$$$ enough to turn the future into summer.

I wanted to walk straight on through the red grass and over the edge of the world$$$ which could not be very far away.

She began to wonder whether she would not do better to finish her life alone. What was left of life seemed unimportant.

Life was so short that it meant nothing at all unless it were continually reinforced by something that endured; unless the shadows of individual existence came and went against a background that held together.

I have sometimes thought that his bursts of imaginative talk were fatal to his poetic gift. He squandered too much in the heat of personal communication.