For instance, it says that one may have many, many fancies, my Barbara⁠—that as soon as the spring comes on, one’s thoughts become uniformly pleasant and sportive and witty, for the reason that, at that season, the mind inclines readily to tenderness, and the world takes on a more roseate hue. From that little book of mine I have culled the following passage, and written it down for you to see. In particular does the author express a longing similar to my own, where he writes:

“Why am I not a bird free to seek its quest?”

“Why am I not a bird free to seek its quest?”

And he has written much else, God bless him!