I plucked a few stems of violets. I fitted them to his buttonhole.
Such a little thing pleased him immensely.
Dear, simple Bishop!
I digested what he spoke. I declared that Christianity was the sun, while Buddhism was the moon.
The sun is day and life, and the moon night and rest.
How can we live without the sun? The moon is poetry.
14th—The sky became low, its colour frowning gray.
The winds snarled.
December was suddenly calling us.
We sat by a snug fire at evening.