[T]he aged creature came, / Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand, …

Wind up your window — it's starting to rain.

I wish we were back in Tenth Street. But so many children came[…]and the Tenth Street house wasn't half big enough; and a dreadful speculative builder built this house and persuaded Austin to buy it. Oh, dear, and here we are among the rich and great; and the steel kings and copper kings and oil kings and their heirs and dauphins.[…]

If there be any thing that knitteth himself to the ilk middle point [of a circle], it is constrained into simplicity (that is to say, into unmovablity), and it ceaseth to be shed and to flit diversely.