“There was no house now, no brewery, no building whatever left, but the wall of the old garden. The cleared space had been enclosed with a rough fence, and looking over it, I saw that some of the old ivy had struck root anew, and was growing green on low quiet mounds of ruin. A gate in the fence standing ajar, I pushed it open, and went in.”
“How beautiful is the blameless vestal’s lot. The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal Sunshine of a spotless mind. Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned.”