Nature is not a wayless waste; it is a rich territory, divided, allotted, and fenced with alleys to walk in […]

I watched them depart, heavy-heartedly. Would I ever see them again?

[I]t was enough to send her rattling away again in a cab, through deserts of gritty streets, where many people crowded at the corner of courts and byways to get some air.

There they were, the devoted babushkas and dedushkas, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers of Bobby’s companions, lugging their bags, their bulging packages and bundles.