She says it is a waste of time . And I love it so . I read every scrap of paper I can get hold of , but I hardly ever see a book . '' The next day Reeves took his Tennyson to the shore and began to read the Idylls of the King to her . `` It is beautiful , '' was her sole verbal comment , but her rapt eyes said everything . After that he never went out with her without a book -- now one of the poets , now some prose classic . He was surprised by her quick appreciation of and sympathy with the finest passages . Gradually , too , she forgot her shyness and began to talk . She knew nothing of his world , but her own world she knew and knew well . She was a mine of traditional history about the bay . She knew the rocky coast by heart , and every old legend that clung to it . They drifted into making excursions along the shore and explored its wildest retreats . The girl had an artist 's eye for scenery and colour effect . `` You should have been an artist , '' Reeves told her one day when she had pointed out to him the exquisite loveliness of a shaft of light falling through a cleft in the rocks across a dark-green pool at their base . `` I would rather be a writer , '' she said slowly , `` if I could only write something like those books you have read to me . What a glorious destiny it must be to have something to say that the whole world is listening for , and to be able to say it in words that will live forever ! It must be the noblest human lot . '' `` Yet some of those men and women were neither good nor noble , '' said Reeves gently , `` and many of them were unhappy . '' Helen dismissed the subject as abruptly as she always did when the conversation touched too nearly on the sensitive edge of her soul dreams . `` Do you know where I am taking you today ? ''
she XXXXX .
falling knew listening live love said say told went write