“I'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time.The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets,The bobolinks begun.Then I said softly to myself,"That must have been the sun!”

“Alas, wife, what are you saying?''Husband,' said she. 'If I can't order the moon and sun to rise, and have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can't bear it. I shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, unless I can make them rise myself.'Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder ran over him, and said, 'Go at once; I wish to be like unto God.”

“I have a mustache like a squirrel and you just ran over my face.”

“You don't blast a heart open," she said. "You coax and nurture it open, like the sun does to a rose.”

“Ah well that I can't tell you." Diana ducked her head so that the brim of her bonnet covered her face. "Some things must remain a mystery and for now I think I'll keep my opinion of you and your compliments to myself.”

“Don't untie me," she said, "no matter what happens or how much I plead. I'll want to go straight over the edge and drown myself.""Are you trying to tempt me?""Ha-ha.”