“. . . happiness grows at our own firesides, . . . . It is not to be picked in strangers' gardens.”

“But happiness ... happiness grows at our own firesides,' she said. 'It is not to be picked in strangers' gardens.”

“Happiness grows at our own firesides, and is not to be picked in strangers' gardens. ”

“Creatures that grow up in the wilderness turn out wild.”

“Happiness in life is not a given, it must be seized.”

“Nighttime is different. Things are otherwise when the world is black. Insecurities and hurts, anxieties and fears grow teeth at night.”

“And finally it seemed autumn had realized it was September. The last lingering days of summer had been pushed off stage and in the hidden garden long shadows stretched towards winter. The ground was littered with spent leaves, orange and pale green, and chestnuts on spiky coats sat proudly on the fingertips of cold branches.”