My Ántonia

If we never arrived anywhere, it did not matter. Between that earth and that sky I felt erased, blotted out.

Whatever we had missed, we possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past.

He had the gift of simple and moving expression. Because he talked so little, his words had a peculiar force; they were not worn dull from constant use.

Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.

twisted up stiffly, like little horns.

Another lantern came along.

stood holding oil-cloth bundles

fringed shawl tied over her head, and she carried a little tin trunk in her arms,

after its long run. In the red glow from the fire-box, a group of people stood huddled together on the platform, encumbered by bundles and boxes.

curled up in a red plush seat