“...Summer nights held a special kind of loneliness that gave rise to strange imaginings. One walked the beach alone and thought too much.”
“I learned the strange art of loneliness, the weathered yearning that swells and passes, and swells and passes, when you walk a trail alone.”
“I used to imagine that if I got up early enough in the morning and went to Pebbly Beach, I'd find my special someone walking along the shore front, waiting. But she was never there.”
“Better, Cilla thought, to be alone on a quiet night than to be alone in a crowd. Much better.”
“The summer demands and takes away too much. /But night, the reserved, the reticent, gives more than it takes”
“You gave too much rein to your imagination. Imagination is a good servant, and a bad master. The simplest explanation is always the most likely.”