Вино из одуванчиков. Повесть и рассказы

How silly of me.

Just the same, it’s nice to be home.

“That’s cheating.”

Oh, God, God, please, please let me get up the hill!

Run!
She heard music. In a mad way, in a silly way, she heard the great surge of music that pounded at her, and she realized as she ran, as she ran in panic and terror, that some part of her mind was dramatizing, borrowing from the turbulent musical score of some private drama,

Silence. A summer-night silence which lay for a thousand miles, which covered the earth like a white and shadowy sea.

For a change, all of the far summer-night meadows and close summer-night trees were suspending motion; leaf, shrub, star, and meadow grass ceased their particular tremors and were listening to Lavinia Nebbs’s heart.

The ravine was deep, black and black, black! And the world was gone behind,

“Sometimes I think people want to die. You’ve acted odd all evening.”

a sky that was beginning to cloud.