Moppet

“I have said before that the long corridor is wonderful. In the winter afternoons and evenings, when the mist rolled up and down over the tiles like the smoke in a tunnel, when one walked almost in darkness and peered into the then forbidden wards, when dwarfs coming from the G block grew larger and larger until the A block turned them into beings of one's own size, the corridor always made a special impression on me.”
― Enid Bagnold, A Diary Without Dates

“Sous un ciel infiniment pur et très haut, dans la lumière douce de la lune, la place de la Concorde paraissait immense et étrange. A cette heure, ce n’était plus un carrefour de Paris, avec son obélisque aux lignes hiératiques, la voie blanche du pont menant à un palais d’architecture grecque, la large avenue des Champs-Élysées fuyant mystérieusement sous la verdure, les terrasses désertes et les jardins silencieux des Tuileries, elle ressemblait à l’agora de quelque ville de rêve sur laquelle planait le sommeil et qui donnait une délicieuse sensation d’immobilité, d’apaisement et de repos.”
― Pierre De Coulevain, Eve victorieuse

“Far down the corridor a slim figure in white approaches, dwarfed by the smoky distance; her nun-like cap floating, her scarlet cape, the "cape of pride," slipped round her narrow shoulders.
How intent and silent They are!
I watched this one pass with a look half reverence, half envy. One should never aspire to know a Sister intimately. They are disappointing people; without candour, without imagination. Yet what a look of personality hangs about them....”
― Enid Bagnold, A Diary Without Dates

“After a wet and muddy day in London I've seen the trains pull into Charing Cross with snow piled on the roofs of the carriages, and felt a foot taller for joy that I was one of those fortunate who might step into a train and go down into a white countryside.”
― Enid Bagnold, A Diary Without Dates