Author: Paul Casey

The wondering look deepened in Cyprian’s eyes as he followed his aunt; he belonged to a generation that is supposed to be over-fond of the role of mere spectator, but looking at napkins that one did not mean to buy was a pleasure beyond his comprehension.

Her eyes were shining softly. She looked away out the car window. She began to speak truly and simply without the gloss of style and manner: “Mamma and I spent the summer in Denver. She went home a week ago because father was slightly ill. I could live and be happy in the West. I…

Nevertheless, and notwithstanding these considerations, Fritz Napoleon Smith’s mode of life may well astonish one. His iron constitution is taxed to the utmost by the heavy strain that is put upon it. Vain the attempt to estimate the amount of labor he undergoes; an example alone can give an idea of it. Let us then…

The knife belonged to the lady in the big green house. Every time Cole came by with his Fixit cart the lady had something to be sharpened. Once in awhile she gave him a cup of coffee, hot black coffee from an old bent pot. He liked that fine; he enjoyed good coffee.

You need not have wasted so much time over what you call evidence. I knew my doom when I fell into your hands. I killed your brother; you will kill me. You have proven that I am a murderer and a robber; I could prove the same of you if you were bound hand and…

Any way that suited the other man would suit him–any way just so’s he got a bet, he was satisfied. But still he was lucky, uncommon lucky; he most always come out winner. He was always ready and laying for a chance;

I noticed that he was fat and bald-headed, and had an expression of winning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil countenance.

There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.

I rose and walked unsteadily up the steep incline of the bridge. My mind was blank wonder. My muscles and nerves seemed drained of their strength. I dare say I staggered drunkenly. A head rose over the arch, and the figure of a workman carrying a basket appeared. Beside him ran a little boy.

This only for a brief period, for presently I heard no more. Yet, for a while, I saw, but with how terrible an exaggeration! I saw the lips of the black-robed judges.

I wandered after them, saying very little, but keeping an eye on this prestidigital fellow. After all, Gip was enjoying it. And no doubt when the time came to go we should be able to go quite easily.

Let it be said that of all who give gifts these six were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

Jumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living and the delight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the meadow till he reached the hedge on the further side.

He opened his eyes in the darkness and saw above him a gleam of light, but how distant, how inaccessible! He was still sinking, for the light became fainter and fainter until it was a mere glimmer.

An artist who had painted a small and very beautiful picture placed it so that he could see it in the mirror. He said, “This doubles the distance and softens it, and it is twice as lovely as it was before.” Wisdom first.

Our meadows on the banks of the Garonne were of a tender green. The grass was three feet high, and an osier thicket, planted the year before, had sprouts a yard high. From there we went to visit our wheat and our vines. Consideration first.

“What makes you say that?” said the boy. “The tree has hundreds of beautiful red buds. This is why it is called the Red-Bud Tree.” The boy said: “Red buds, did you say? Why do you say it has red buds? It is covered with green leaves.” Appreciation first.

She decided to approach him and with noble words let him know that she wished to see him blossom like the other trees, so she proposed to cast a spell so that he could find the warmth of life. Listening first.

Time was what Renzo wished he had, free time to forget about all the troubles that plagued him like having money to pay his rent, to pay the people he owed debt, to plaster the crack and indentations on the walls of the apartment. Open-mindedness first.

There’s a letter here for you, I said. I was sitting in the kitchen, still looking at the letter that was not for me. The writing on the envelope was elegantly written in an iridescent golden ink. It was beautiful. Compassion first.

“But it’s so pretty. Just five more minutes, please?” Ava begged her mother, desperate to get back to staring at the flashing colors of the jumping flame. Thoughtfulness first.

The travelers were happy, their host had fed them and offered rest. The woman smiled and said, “I am glad that I could help you.” Generosity first.

The subtle watercolor illustrations done in a palette of predominately greens and grey. This is one of my favorite illustrations because I feel it really captures the sense of spring that was so much a part of Willie’s life, but not allowing either one to dominate it. Patience first.

As the sun climbs across the sky, the field transforms. And as dusk falls, the flowers close their petals, to hold onto the day’s warmth, waiting to bloom again with the next sunrise.