A Good Solid Bit Of Work Lasts.

Quarrel? Nonsense; We Have Not Quarreled. If One Is Not To Get Into A Rage Sometimes, What Is The Good Of Being Friends?

A Difference Of Taste In Jokes Is A Great Strain On The Affections.

I Protest Against Any Absolute Conclusion.

I Not Only Want To Be Loved, I Want To Be Told That I'm Loved.

Our Dead Are Never Dead To Us Until We Have Forgotten Them: They Can Be Injured By Us, They Can Be Wounded; They Know All Our Penitence, All Our Aching Sense That Their Place Is Empty, All The Kisses We Bestow On The Smallest Relic Of Their Presence.